January 19th, 2020.
I arrive at my house
And open my door to heavy grey smoke pouring out
The thickness blinds me
And burns all the way down my trachea
911 is called in trance
I sob and violently shake
As my two dogs are pulled out of my house
Charlie and Sawyer were given CPR,
But were unable to be saved
Suffocated, they say.
At least their death was fast, they say.
At least they didn't burn, they say.
Yes, as if there's any upside to my dogs dying
My last memory of them was
Me giving them chicken
Then yelling at them for tracing it all over the house.
I'm sorry Charlie and Sawyer.
I'm sorry for closing my door when you wanted to play.
I'm sorry for forgetting to fill up your water containers.
I'm sorry for yelling at you for giving me kisses.
I'm sorry for pushing your head away
When you sat in my lap and looked up at me
With doe eyes.
I'm sorry.
I don't even care about the house.
All my clothes
All my furniture
Everything that was ruined.
Sure, I can buy a new bed frame or iPad
Because those things are replaceable.
But you guys aren't.
I'll never be able to find two dogs that
Loved me as much as you guys did
Dogs that let me hold them and clutch their fur while I was sobbing
Dogs that ran with me before sunrise
Dogs that could sense when I was sadder than usual so they would sit at my side
Just so I would know that I wasn't alone
Dogs that loved me even when I didn't love them as much as I should've
YOU ARE READING
My Voice Through Poetry
PoetryDepressed + gay = poetry 🤯 ⚠️ TRIGGER WARNING: including (but not limited to) self-harm, abuse, mental hospitals, eating disorders, and suicide.
