I don’t remember when I first met you
but my mom tells me that you were meant to keep my dog company
and instead I stole you-
squashing your soft black body as I crawled away
I do remember scratching off your nose when I was two
I didn’t mean to hurt you
but the white cotton remaining made you look even more adorable
and you smiled at me
your sweet, soft smile
I remember being partners in crime
stuffing the hidden pocket on your stomach
With stolen treasures
But you would never tell
I remember running with you
along Central Park
the sun warming our backs
And when I would stumble on my own legs,
you would catch me every time
And I laughed
The kind that felt like bubbles
I remember pulling up a chair beside my backpack in preschool
so I could kiss you
and my teachers wouldn’t notice
and if they did, they soon learned that nothing could keep us apart
Not even leaving you at the airport
when my parents searched and called
voice shaking as they
desperately tried to end my lamentation
and we found you there waiting
casually chatting with Officer Brown
and she told us
that you were clearly loved
Except time
Time has kept us apart
because now
you don’t sleep in my bed anymore
Instead, you hide under my chair
alone and afraid
