GRIEF Poem: Bite Marks, by Leah Mockridge

I love like a bad dog
I’m soft, and sweet, and gentle–
Until I’m sharp teeth and terror.
I don’t mean to bite,
but my lips curl back
to show my sharp, shining teeth.

When people leave me, they leave with bite marks.
I hold on too hard, I hurt people.
I never learned to submit.
I never learned to let go.
I’m restless, I’m harsh, and despairing.
I’m the stray dog you were warned not to pet.

I claw at closed doors
until my paws bleed.
Nails shattering on the siding
of a house that was never my home.
I just want someone to let me in,
to save me from the cold, dark night.

My teeth ache, heavy with memories,
they were never meant to hold.
I bite down, desperately,
because letting go feels like losing.
Bruised and bloody, I hang in there,
the champion of a fight that will have no winners.

I’m not the kind of animal
that knows how to separate love from pain.
I’m not the kind of beast
that can soften in the face of fear.
I’m the kind of dog that keeps fighting,
even when surrender is the only way out.

I get mean when I’m afraid.
I’m a bad dog dying to find a way to be good.
I want to collapse at your feet,
belly up, open and surrendering.
I don’t want to fight anymore.
I just never learned a better way to get you to stay.