He is the only one who watches over me. I am the only one who cares for him. One delicate dragon with pointy scales and a blackened beard. One who does not understand the world beyond the crystal walls. One animated creature basting under ultraviolet bulbs. From my bed, I watch him explore, but the others think he’s gross and cringes at his sight.
His beauty is obvious. Only obvious to a bearded dragon mother. I find him comforting because he knows when I am sad, he cuddles my collarbones as tears stream down my cheeks. This is how he mischievously inquires.
Let one voice besides mine raise its tone, he’d abolish his delicacy and anchor down his nails, puff out his big bloated beard. It’s okay, it’s alright, it’s okay, he telepathically whispers. He protects.
When I am too down and my cries are as delicate as his skin, when I am too defeated to move an inch, then it is I that depends on him to care for me. When we can each ignore surrounding vile, and hold onto each other for a while. One delicate dragon, making me smile. One who climbs high and never forgets to take watch. For whose many reasons are to guard and make me happy.