She sinks into me, black shadow,
all teeth and claw,
an effervescence of fur and delight.

She trills in glory,
and I bask in her kisses,
promising my soul’s service
if she will but love me
awhile longer.


In an instant
I am forsaken for another,
more attractive,
more compelling —

made of crinkly plastic wrap.

Stupid cat.

About Catastrophe Jones

Wretched word-goblin with enough interests that they're not particularly awesome at any of them. Terrible self-esteem and yet prone to hilarious bouts of hubris. Full of the worst flavors of self-awareness. Owns far too many craft supplies. Will sing to you at the slightest provocation.
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