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Rated: E · Poetry · Death · #1641479
About the death of my beloved guinea pig, Spots, and the arrival of his "replacement".
“At Midnight”

His fragile body is warm
in my hands, furry head
resting lightly on my chest.
I clutch at the cheery yellow towel
as if it were a physical manifestation
of hope. My eyes leak silent tears
as I hug him to my breast, ready,
if not willing, to let him go.
The witching hour has come and gone
when they finally insert the needle
full of bubble-gum-pink death.
He looks me in the eye, body so full of life,
and my eyes turn into faucets.
One thrust of the syringe and his
body deflates, a balloon someone
has poked a hole into. There’s no need
for the soft voiced nurse to say
“He’s gone.”
I know irrevocably
his life force has fled, his tiny heart
ceased beating.

“A Silver Lining”

My sorrow’s puffy cloud has
a silver lining – her delicate,
furry body a magical hue of
misty, palest gray and snowy white
in the places in between.
A tiny, twitching nose is
splashed in gray and contantly moving,
roving, exploring as bright eyes
peer from a paint splattered
monochromatic face. The muted colors
make her eyes seem overbright,
coal black and wetly shining.
Her vivacious life and sparkling
personality bring a needed smile to my face.
The dark cloud of his demise shines
brighter with her halo of light.
He is with her, through her, in her –
and she is truer.
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