We joke about who will die

first but we both know it will likely be you. 

We hold hands

while walking the dog, make

her “talk” and argue

about who she loves more. 

I adopted her years before

but before long we both craved 

your scent. One day I’ll donate 

your organs and hope 

your eyes, your lungs, your heart

live on in another. For now, I put 

my feet on your calves in bed 

and you yelp at the cold then 

move your legs to sandwich 

my frozen toes and curl your 

whole body around me, reminding 

me of the home I found in you.