I hate you for what you did to me.
Some mornings I still find myself yearning for our memories.
I'll wait forever just like a dog. A mutt - crossbred so many times you can't even tell what revolting dogs I sprout from. My pelt caked in dirt and grime, I lap at my wounds. I find pleasure from the feeling of your hands pressing the bruised spot behind my pinned ears, the lesson from the day prior.
Gnawing at my paw stuck in the trap, laceration around my joint. A lame dog, put down by the junkyard worker - I am sick. Snarling with yellow, rotting teeth, my eyes hold no more faith.
I'm like a beaten house trained hound; surviving off your intimacy and scraps.
This bilious idolization I have for you, it remains after such horrid butchery I receive.
Ergo I sit, await - like a dog.
