We, living things,
we like to stick together
cat asleep on my chest
rising and falling with breath,
tucking a furry forehead against my chin
clinging together for warmth
or is there something else
eyes droop
never enough time to tell
light a candle against the darkness
go on, wasting candle upon candle
as if light could be wasted
as if we are finite, possible
to enclose
now I’m writing poems about cats
about loneliness with red roses on the table
about light in the dead of winter
about trying again and again
you can’t tell me a thing
here i'm thinking of yr old friend PN, no joke
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