Purrs.

I’m trying to write a romance,
With a cat nuzzled by my side.
He really isn’t much help,
This cat,
With any storylines.

He comforts me,
Sleeping affixed.
After scheming,
To be next,
To my left hip.

He probably wonders why these humans are so hot and bothered, vexed, turmoiled. His head cocked in one direction, “Aren’t I enough of a love story?” From a feline whose existence, he thinks, unequivocally, should be my only worry.

He’s close by,
To my side,
Waiting to steal,
A nose kiss.
To hear in,
His pointed,
Twitchy ear,
He’s the,
Only handsome one,
In my sordid,
Plot twist.

Romance, I must get back to you, and scenes of lovers intertwined. Licks, grips, and steamy embrace. Purr…
Wait,
!@&#$%,
Tippy-taps.
Next,
Screen lock.

There’s a familiar, intrusive face, staring at a pace. Too close to see, blocking my writer’s block.

Okay,
Blue eyes.
I’ll scratch,
Don’t fret.
I know,
My jealous boy,
To give to you,
All a lover’s pets.

You will always have me wrapped around your paw, cozy in a faux fur blanket. Against my leg, a sort of soul therapy. Solace amidst, albeit, conditionally contrary.

The male lead,
I serve,
While writing poetry.
A cat,
Full of love,
With purrs.

The true hero of my stories.

Excerpt from
A cat’s love.