When I saw your scruffy face on the shelter’s website
I thought you were the one.
A virtual match connecting you to me,
You busy little bee.
Your golden hair and your button nose
Imprinted in my memory.
One simple picture, one slightly too-perky name.
A sign, a wish, a silent hope
That you would be the pet for me.
When I saw you curled hidden in the corner
Like the strands of an abandoned mop
You left me unraveled.
The sight of you like a punch sick memory
Of so much left unfixed
And the need in me to mend it all.
To sew it up, to make it new,
The lie, the need, the uncorked screw
Left from so much troubled wine
It turns to vinegar on my tongue.
The hiss, the hum, the unhooked view
of a world that didn’t belong to me and you.
I cry for the loss I will not know
and the chip off the block I know too well.
Let It Bespoken 
Leave a comment