there is a dog,
and in its eyes
we exist.
profoundly impaired,
conjoined in the likes of love.
its paws are neglected,
nails so long it hurts
its tired of fighting
and never winning.
there's this dog,
who thinks just as us,
insulting if not
but at least we're broken together.
us, as in me and you,
broken in love
and in each other.
but this dog is crying all too well,
and we should have fooled ourselves.
the dog knows because we are him,
though we pretend not to be in shame.
as it all comes to light and he still stands,
we are not conjoined in love,
but ignorance.
we are not broken in each other,
but for each other.
we never put the others pieces back together,
we simply hid them.
and in confidence, we told this dog,
our sins, our faults, and our bleeding hearts.
there is a dog,
and in its eyes we can be seen.
impaired, broken, and faulty,
but we have no higher horse,
we have no better,
so we sit aside,
and hold each others pieces until kingdom come.
