The Cat

July 27, 2016


I trace lines
along the echo
of your sighs
with glass fingernails
that cut
and crawl
like a cat
licking your wounds
and tasting the sea
in your mouth
I seek words
to seduce me
to force my soul
into submission
no choice but to feel
no chance to disassociate
to fall back
into control
these words scar
my small frame;
my shell
of silent whimpers
and soft, soft skin
The smoke clouds over
my doe eyes
always seeking
truth, and maybe
the tears of trees
of the sky
the only place
that has no expectations
only the damp earth
and the breath of life
In the shallow waters
the moon looks on
a voyeur
as I bathe
in tea leaves
and dreams
where we wander

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