Content Warning: This poem is about the death of my cat Tiny. 

There is a hole in me

One which cannot close

T’would be easier were it bleeding

Instead, is black and cold

Or is it gray, as ash

Which would suit, being as all of you is

Ash

And soot.

For all we have is borrowed

From the salt in our blood

To the calcium in our bones

When we are said and done

All that we are

Will one day go home.

The hole in me.

Tis where your paws and fur belong

The parts of you left behind

I will carry

However long.

I will grow around you.

A knot in wood – not healed, not gone.

Now a gaping chasm, soon a pinhole

But never fully drawn.

Your beautiful face

Your little pink nose.

I’ll never hold you, stroke your fur

Or boop your snoot again

So I’m glad

So glad

For all the times I have already done

In absence of you

These memories I will hold

Packed into the chasm where you are missing

Until we meet again

And I can unfold them

Show you

How much you meant and will always

Mean.