lamb and hound

i let the water ripple

and i leap inside the black hole rift.

finding satisfaction makes for an easier task in darkness

where no other eyes dare peek

i can finally breathe, whole again.

letting their expectations slide, i shut my eyes tight

and float, float, float.

don't need no one else

don't need nothing but silence.

do i crave the light?

yes.

is it worth it to my vampire skin, my onion breath?

never.

feeding the pack of wolves who snarled as they constricted my wool with bloodied knitting needles

slowly revealing the pup inside me.

feeding the lamb had lead to light,

the bright kind that lacks mercy and cares far away from your thoughts and feelings.

you should not expect that light to be kind...

stories told, i grew and nurtured the pup into a hound

who wore a collar of kind, soft, plump wool

and protected the lamb torn away and stolen years ago.

tributed to the kindness i can only show myself, it seems.

unexpected ferocity, i lept bearing the knitting needles they thought would end me from the inside out.

they

were

wrong.

and the pup i rescued is wild and untamed

furiously loyal but i see the destruction of its heart-

you cannot win a war of spite with kindness...

survive, survive, survive.

try, try, try.

keeping the heartbeats raw and the woolen collar warm with love.

because in the memory of the lamb who never knew better,

i will go on.

~