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You mumble sweet nothin's, saccharine and trite, My dog, though? Love's a different kind of bite. His love's a thrash, a happy, frantic bark, No shady deals, no judgments in the dark.
Love songs whine of hearts on fire and pain, But pups dish love uncut, sunshine after rain. No costumes worn, no need for phony scenes, Just raw affection, chasing squirrels in between.
He greets me with a slobbery, toothy grin, No baggage dragged, no drama stuffed within. His heart's a neon sign, loyalty unbound, A fierce
devotion on every walk we've prowled.
Maybe with humans, love's a tangled mess, My dog cuts through the crap, pure happiness. His love's a fist bump, a treasure I hold tight, A ride-or-die friend, with loyalty that bites.
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