I woke up with my love beside me.

I was rereading a few of my old things. poems. scribbles.

And I found a poem/minddump in an old file.

It doesn’t have a date on it. Because, for several weeks last year, I irresponsibly neglected to include dates and thus have no recollection of when exactly some of the pieces were written.

Regardless.

I remember writing this one and being so frustrated that I couldn’t figure out how to make it sound the way I wanted it to.

But when I read it a couple days ago, I actually liked how it was in its half-poem-half-rant form that really has no rhythm or flow at all.

Instead, it has personality.

Here you are:

i woke up with my love beside me

he’s large and black,

furry

and a dog.

he keeps his head on the pillow next to mine.

interestingly enough-

the pillow had belonged to his namesake.

occasionally, he snuggles under the covers– but he’s not suppose to do that.

when i wake up, i can put my arms around him

and remember how he’s more snuggly than any other person who has lied in the same place.

to be honest

this probably isn’t their fault.

with my habit of pouring gasoline on the parts of life i actually care about

and freezing out the people i don’t,

well. you can see why i wake up with my dog to cuddle with every morning.

i don’t resent this

i actually prefer it.

i dream and scribble while he lies at my feet

he always goes back to bed after we’ve woken up, and i’ve made my coffee and let him out

so he can smell the dirty city’s morning air. 

really though- he’d be okay with any morning air.

he’ll sit on those steps out back, and when he realizes how long it’s been since we’ve talked,

he comes back inside to be my shadow.

i type. he snuggles.

he doesn’t know 

how terrible i am at being next to people

as i wrap myself in all my own thoughts

and resent anyone’s misunderstanding

of how i have to be.

he doesn’t mind 

my secret soaring and crashing

the way my mind resembles a poorly flown airplane.

he doesn’t beg 

for my attention when i just don’t have the time

to give it.

wait. 

yes he does.

he’ll sit there and whine and cry and bark

until i give him every ounce of everything i have

but for some reason

i don’t mind this as much. 

he’d never use

me for my extra words and 

my spare moments of affirmation

he’d never forget

me on the corner of some dark and dreary memory

he’d never neglect

to say goodbye if he decided that life 

just wasn’t for him.

he’d never lose

himself 

in such a way

that would prevent me 

from wrapping my arms around him

from snuggling my feet under him

from cuddling next to his hot breath.

from hearing his loud heart beat. 

that reminds me 

of what it’s like

for someone else 

to exist next to me. 

woof.

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