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Dog Fight

He bares his teeth and gums, growling like a hungry pack of dogs guarding their prey.

I am the intruder asking for a piece of what he has to offer.

Trouble is, he never intends to share any of his possessions.

Yet I’m willing to trade for any of mine.

I give a submissive gesture, avoiding eye contact.

He aggressively stares me up and down, as if I’m competition for time not earned.

I don’t know how to pacify his whims; I don’t know what he wants.

All I know is my fight or flight instinct is hiding from me, somewhere in a corner.

I want to prove my worth but so desperately need to run the other way.

His alpha dog scent covers up my insecurities and I’m attracted to the smell of his confidence.

I can’t seem to distance myself from this dominate superior, and yet I know it’s not likely to end well.

I suppose I don’t care if I get bitten and scratched in the process.

I want to be desired, even if it is for all the wrong reasons.