CW: Pet death, dog attack
Your tag hangs off my bloated wrist
and I wish instead it brought
my fingertips out to
pet your soft, thin fur.
I see your blood
on my hands,
dripping,
dry.
I fear
losing him
as I lost you.
I wish you back, but
magic is not real and
life is not fair. Yet I have
him. He has warmth, your curly tail.
(Prompt by me)
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