He loves me like a dog;
Not a pet, not a beloved family member
But a common mutt,
cast into the wild
when I do not fetch the bone he throws me.

He loves only when I do not howl at the moon
for the injustice and evil of this cruel life.
He loves on a seasonal this-and-that sort of term
And kicks at my chest
when I sleep on his sofa or lick at his heels.

He breaks me like a horse-
To become his archetype-
And revolts at the Jezebel I am supposed to be

And yet,
this dog comes crawling back to the arms who should love me

unconditionally…

I come back to my accuser,
I crawl to my stereotype-

After all I am a **** good maid.