A long, slim ball of English cream
curls up against the velvety crimson stairs,
like an entity of white against maroon.
His ears perk up as I amble closer,
he watches me with watery brown eyes
as I make my way towards him.
He shifts,
igniting a flurry of his fur that winds up
and falls elegantly like grace itself.
He moves with an aura of nobility,
gallantly walking over to where I sit,
and sits on top of me.
Posted in response to the challenge PAST CONTESTS: Spring '24: Writing Contest.
ten tears that escape from the narrow corners of my eyes
flowing down my cheeks and onto my lap where they melt and disappear
even my tears have lost.
nine questions scribbled into a diary late at night
I’m sorry that I wasn’t the rings to your Saturn,
because Saturn had cracked into two;
I’m sorry that I slipped salt into your sugar,
yet your sugar was bitter, I cried too.
I’m sorry that you never learned to care,
warmth,
pumpkin spice lattes
hot, spice-soaked coffee drizzled with a splash of cinnamon
coated with half-melted whipped cream, nestled by the delicate fire,
comfort,
your favorite cardigan
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