Good morning

I would kill for you—
no, listen—
I would choose kindness instead.
I would tame the sharp instinct in my chest,
set it down gently at your feet,
and become someone safe.

I would wake an hour before the sun
just to learn the sound of morning for you—
coffee breathing warmth into the room,
breakfast waiting like a promise
that the day will be held carefully.

Good morning.
I would say it every day
as if it were a vow.

I would stay.
No matter what shape the dark takes,
I would leave the light on
until your fear forgets its own name.
I would hold you—
tight enough to anchor,
soft enough to heal—
until peace finds you
and decides to stay.

I can be strong, if I must be.
I can fight, if there is no other way.
But loving you
does not sharpen my teeth—
it stills them.

When I look at you,
I know I am not a violent dog.
I will not bite.
I am quiet.
I am gentle.
I am calm.

I would die for you.
Oh, I would kill for you—
but loving you
has taught me something braver:

how to live.

Onnaya