I want your 3 ams, your thoughts
your hopes and dreams of you and me.
I crave to listen to your favorite songs,
visit the coffee shops you’ve been to and sing along
to the music of the clouds being gloomy together
on our way to the beach.
I lust for those legs of yours, your lips, tongue,
the way you excessively blink your eyes whenever
you’re worried about how you’d like to look beautiful
and darling you are and to worship your body is a miracle.
I long for the things that inspire you to keep looking up,
the gravity that grounds you here with me on this blue planet
and I desire this, the being with you till’ all my wanting ceases.
Where does she go when her home isn’t her home?
I am worried about her. This girl whom I love so much. I am worried that her home would one day turn into a dungeon where she would be tortured by the people whom she should’ve loved but couldn’t love because these people whom she should’ve loved couldn’t love her imperfections. And day after day after day I feel empty because she’s no different than a street cat just searching for a home somewhere. In a place where people loves cats. In a place where cats are appreciated.
And here I am in a place where people are okay with cats hoping to love her and appreciate her on the day when she finally comes running back into my soft paws and sharp claws that will forever love her and annoy her.