Muddy paw prints on the floor were replaced by yours-
Different beings.
Same grief.
The footsteps on the stairs are now yours-
Our hands intertwined instead of four legs following me up,
Whispered words from your lips instead of whines at the door.
The sadness is overwhelming.
And I scrubbed you off my hands this time instead of the crate-
Then curled up on the same couch with the same grief,
Mourning two different relationships in the same spot.
In the same way.
The drive home was the same too-
Disoriented and blurry,
I’d been sleep deprived and crying for way too long;
I search for you in the same places.
I never quite find either of you.
And I’m angry because now I grieve the couch too-
We curled up on it and now I’m sobbing into the same cushion,
Begging my washing machine to rinse away the pain.
It hasn’t seen the inside of the machine yet.
Muddy paw prints on the floor were replaced by yours-
Phantom outlines of your boots on my steps instead of five paw pads.
How cruel.
