A slave without a collar, chasing after her Master. Everyday I care for him. I still iron his clothing, oil his beard, make his breakfast, pack his lunch.
I watch him, keep up with every detail and every word. His every need I strive to anticipate. He should want for nothing but he does want. He wants what I cannot give. He has long since stopped sharing what it is he wants. He has long since packed my collar into a box that sits deep in the closet with the rest of our gear.
He doesn't watch out for me much, anymore. Doesn't see me struggle, see my sadness, see me. He is always kind and if I say how I am feeling he does a thing or two to try to make me smile. I know he cares, I am just not often on his mind.
We have talked, shared, tried. Nothing. Every promise made to fix this rift has been broken, forgotten, ignored.
I serve him still, he says he still wants me. He still loves me. He just doesn't need me like he used to.
I will still be useful. I will still serve. I keep his day going. I can be part of his life. I do not kneel. I am not taken by the hair. I don't wear the collar, but I am still his slave.
