How shall I explain?
I take in his presence as a woven basket, enclosed are fragile items
and I’m determined to keep them intact.
Overbearing some may some,
protective others.
To hold onto with your dear life as if they are the sun that lightens your day, or the moon that transcends you into a delicate array of dreams and comfort.
The weight on your shoulder then becomes plausible,
resembling not stacks of red and brown bricks,
but a thousand fruits (apples, mangos, guavas),
you travel without regret to feed a village. 
The fruits my love, the village my heart,
so much that when he's gone you now live with a shriveled heart.
Silly some may say,
mindless others.

I’ve never been camping but know the way freshly made flames

warm my skin with each tingling sensation.

All due to an earnest touch against soft curls roaming towards cotton sheets.
Distant now we are the feeling remains the same for I need you,
and your silence, your curious enlarged hazel eyes, your overbite, and your paws that embedded mine.
Just a dog some may say,
dramatic others.
Family I say,
devotion and responsibility I believe are love.