underneath the porch 

Only you can decide 

The violent reproach 

You sent me away. 

If I am allowed 

It was the other day. 

On the furniture 

Feeling older and bound 

The matted fur 

A muffled sound 

I am untamed 

A howl unheard 

My open shame 

Licking the fresh wound 

Playing his game. 

Waiting for the master’s call 

and another sharp kick. 

I will play with the ball 

It is sick. 

If that is what you want. 

To love someone with everything 

and receive nothing. 

I cannot win. 

What have I done? 

That call that does not come 

Questions that never cease. 

On a recent day, I received a call from someone from my past. I felt panicked and unsure of what it meant. I thought to myself: I feel like that wounded dog that hides under the porch. Cowering in fear of a master who will kick and hurl abuse. You can love someone, yet they will treat you like crap. I had a reprieve from the mind games and felt safe and happy. I started to think about what the implications of talking to the person and how it felt.