I come home, and he hasn’t seen me in years.
I left at 7:30 this morning.
His love for me is communicated by the stench of his breath on my face,
Followed by a damp example of warmth.
I scolded him three and a half minutes prior.
He holds me tight every night, and stays until the morning.
I’ve been single for years.
I cook a meal for three,
Playing mind games with myself again.
He makes up for the empty seat.
I carry the weight of the world on my shoulders.
His grin dissipates my boulders on anxiety.
He carries the weight of my loneness on his back.
Poor dog.