Prey

I get home, and all that croaks
is my couch when I vouch for its pain,
as I land both legs like loaded gallons,
straight onto its poofy pillow-plush.

For at home, I meow, I roll and I
fall. Waiting for you, only you,
to stroke my fur, pat my head,
the only one who dared
to clip my claws.

At home, I stare at the stars
that are stuck on my wall.
At home, I wonder
whether you'll laugh at me
when I wake up as a lion;

my bleached highlights in a frenzy,
hair like Dorothy's after landing,
but how I wish, how I wish
to be swept away by a tornado;

land on that poofy pillow-plush
of your chest, and curl to sleep
with the scent of your shampoo
on my fingertips. No whine,
no jealousy, just us

drunk on the dream of possibility.
Oh, how I wish, how I wish
to brush my teeth each morning
and forget about the bite marks
I left on your tattered heart.

How I wish, how I pray,
for us to end whole-hearted.

02/11/2016
10:58 PM