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,
Should be,
Unequivocally,
My only worry.

He’s close by,
To my side,
Awaiting a moment,
To steal a nose kiss.
To hear,
In his pointed, twitchy ear,
He’s the only handsome one,
In my plot twist.

Romance,
I must get back,
To these scenes,
Of lovers intertwined.
A steamy embrace,
Of licks, grips.

Purr…
Wait,
!@&#$%, tippy-taps across.
Next,
Screen lock.
An intrusive face, interlaced,
Too close to see,
Blocking my writer’s block.

Okay, blue eyes.
I’ll scratch along the jaw,
Don’t fret.
I know,
My jealous boy,
To give you all a lover’s pets.

Against my leg,
Comfort amidst,
A sort of soul therapy.
Giving so much, little one,
Of spirit and warmth.
Albeit, conditionally contrary.

You will always have,
Me wrapped,
Around your paw,
In a faux fur blanket.
The male lead,
I serve,
While writing poetry.
A cat,
Full of love with purrs.
The true hero of my stories.