As she steps out of the darkness I can see the bumps and ridges that line her skin and hug her frame. She isn't fat, not meaty at all. In fact, all you can see on her tired body is skin and bone, all the way up, all the way down. Models would envy her, if only they were as thin, but I can see her death approaching. Fast or slow, I have yet to discover. Her body still moves, her eyes still shine, but even she knows she cannot last forever. I'll cry when she's gone, I'll mourn her for long, but it'll be for the best. Whether she's sick, I do not know, but I know I cannot trust her to live for too long. Because as soon as I know it she'll be long gone. I love her, but she cannot live forever. I'll miss her when she goes.
//
This was written for a dear pet of mine. She was put down June 24th, 2017 and I still miss her often.
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poetry
شِعرpoetry is when an emotion has found its thought, and the thought has found words -robert frost. all poems are mine unless stated otherwise. just thought i'd give someone a taste of my mind. #4 in ode
