A Cold Body by the Warm Fire

A dog. A puppy. A soulless being under the cold dark rug. The fire crackles as the body lies limply breathing in the warm smoky air. I sit simply. The fire light licks my face as it stares off into a world that begs to be forgotten. You are seated comfortably in the depths of my gaze. You wish to dissolve, to burn away, soon you will be on unseen. I refuse. You belong to me. You are mine. I tried to hard to get you to stay. You didn't know I loved you. You didn't know that the stones, the flowers, and the thoughts I gave you were birds in cage with no lock. I had to give them. I had to have you. And I did.

But now you are gone and I sit alone by the fire. I have no dog. Not anymore. He was the first friend to say farewell. He cared. He loved me. He knew I was his. He was unlike you. I that you hear my words as you make residence in my head. You are a mere impression. A foot-step 100 hundred miles deep. They is no storm to wash you away. Please leave me. I don't need you to stay.. I only want you to.

The fire collapses due to it's own consumption. The light has faded. But your fluid image has become only sharper. I'm sinking deeper. Falling. Falling into my own thoughts. The fire needs another log. But the woodshed is outside. Out where it's cold. I will stay here. Warm in my thoughts. Your hips. Your lips. Your eyes, and all that lies between. I remember that night. I can feel the warmth of your bed. You got up only moments ago to freshen up. When will you return?