writerfromva

I hold my secrets in the shape of stars,

constellation-clustered candy like flaming balls of gas.

Sometimes they have five points.

Sometimes six.

Always, they burn

in that space inside your head

"Please take care of my human," 

the old cat whispers to the kitten. 

"They are scarred and broken. 

Until my return, 

take care of my human." 

The kitten is listening attentively,