Wallow

If I had fur
I’d at least be soft
to the touch
even if there was still
broken glass and shrapnel
under my skin

Caressing
would be ever
an option
as it is not now
Cuddling
would be
accessible
as it is not now

But I have no fur
I’ve rolled and rolled and rolled
in so many sharps
you can’t see my skin
I am not
easily lovable 
cannot be held 

If I seek fur
now it’s only by
the only way I know
hunting
killing and skinning
bullet and knife
and blood spent
in the search for a warmer
hide

but no one loves
the hunter
who comes home soaked in blood
no matter
how soft he now appears

so why bother
live instead spined and ragged
with cuts and scars
and if no one comes to stroke me
all for the good