Grief can choke you. I can't erase it, so instead I'm turning it into art. Bear was my hamster. He was my baby. He was my friend. Now he's my fluffy angel. Here's a poem I wrote for him.
I miss the feel of your feet
and your little face.
I miss the sound
of you running late at night.
I admit I still listen for it.
And now my shoulder
will forever be colder.
I’ll never forget
when we first met.
You chose me first,
crawled into my hand
and wormed your way into my heart.
I still would have chosen you,
even knowing how it hurts today.
I can hardly stand to look
at all of the photographs we took.
But yet I can’t look away.
I need a reminder that you
were real and mine.
I don’t go into that room anymore,
but sometimes I still glance through the door.
And I miss your little feet
and your soft fur.
I miss the feel of you on my chest.
I miss you with every one of my heartbeats.
But I’m still happy you chose me.