The dog

No one else can see it. Maybe they are looking with sightless eyes, but I sense it’s more than that. The dog is cunning. It doesn’t show itself to just anyone. It prefers to skulk behind a façade – the bare ordinariness of its owner, hiding in his existence, killing slowly. I can feel its presence every where, sense it lurking in the shadow of my loved one, hear its claws scrabbling. Waiting to bite at any shadow of kindness turned its way.

Slashing. Hurting.

Not leaving any visible marks, just tearing away the flesh of my heart as my partner wrestles it, trying to subdue its growing presence.

Strip, by strip, by strip. It chews away the very centre of my life while I watch. Until we are both numb.

The black dog.