I cannot open wounds that are trying to heal.

I wonder if I will ever be unashamedly honest.

I cannot.

I run around in circles.
Black dog won’t go.
It makes me sad.

But when black dog is not around I miss him so dearly.

Black dog reminds me that I am alive.

He almost killed me.

He almost.

Almost.

Almost suceeded.

Imagine that?
But the attachment I have for that pest is destructive.
I love him with great intensity.

He belongs to me.