day thirty-seven: the loss of Velv.

in this exact moment

i hate everything

i hate the way breathing feels

i hate the way holding my breath feels

i hate my fingers

i hate my friends

i hate being beneath these sheets

in this exact moment

i question everything i have ever loved

and why it was important to me

in this moment

i hate it all

i hate knowing

but i also hated wondering

i hate knowing that she is gone

i hate the hate that is suffocating me

i hate that loss is necessary for life

i hate that now i have to walk down to where she is buried

to cry

cry

cry

cry

because she is gone

never to bark at me

to express to me

that she wants me to throw the ball

or to move over so she can have the seat next to the armrest

so she can sit on my lap, which she hardly ever did

so she can sleep on my feet, like she used to

so she can get in my bed and chew a hole through my favorite quilt

simply because she couldn't sleep or the storm outside the house made her nervous

she will never

ride shotgun

and stick her wet nose

all over my window

and it will not be there for weeks

annoying me because it looks like a two year old

licked their finger and painted on the window

she wont do that anymore

because she isn't here.

she's under the trees,

below the birds she used to bark at,

she's beneath the soil

in the lower pasture.

she's my Velvet,

and she's not here anymore.