that dog in me

all these young boys walking around

“i got that dog in me”

driven, working,

successful, as long as they put their mind to it.

gentler, older, my dog is an arthritic mutt.

i lay by the door waiting for you

for hours on end.

is it patience or false faith?

am i virtuous or a lovesickened fool?

today i fear it is the latter.

sick, waiting.

one hour

two

five.

i think i hear a text from you and my ears perk up.

a knock at the door, are you finally home?

isn’t being a fool unjustified?

when spirits hit your tongue they lift mine.

“i want to be with you”

“i want to come home to you”

but i am waiting. i am kept waiting.

when you are spiritless so am i.

i am still waiting, bags packed, waiting for you to ask for me again, hoping you aren’t being talked out of it. i have been waiting since the second you left.