i used to have a dog

It’s been four years.

Four years since the sun shone in my eyes, since my feet grazed the blades of grass, since my skin had felt the heat and the atmosphere.

Four years since my fingernails were free from soil, since my legs had brought me to a full stance, since my fingers had stretched from their curled positions.

Four years since I had seen my love, since I had held him in my arms, since I smelled his scent.

The lonely disease had taken me, diminished me until I could not feel the love I used to have. I had run out of rent, run out of food, run out of time.

I knew this day was coming, I could see it in my future. I built for this, my father built for this. He died making this shelter. He stacked it with non-perishables. And yet it had not lasted the four years. I had resulted to worse things.

I am afraid of what my love will think of me. Will he be worse? Will he empathize? Or will he be struck by the hunger that I had felt and never show?

I can only see my television. The screen cracked, cables running to the surface where solar panels faced the sun. The news anchor could barely keep her containment: “we are finally free”.

Freedom will never release me from the wrongs that I have done. The toilet paper that I had stolen from that older woman. The homeless that begged for water that I bought in bulk. The masks and hand sanitizer I had stolen from the hospitals and nurses that needed them. The food I had made for myself...

The anchor was so happy. Yet she will never realize that I used to have a dog.