Campfire Stories

crowdedmind.coStuck inside

I look out, the windows need cleaning. 

Disconnected, I contemplate the work. 

She reaches in, her bright fingers search 

For something to cling to, 

A secret place to hide her light. 

Her pink body already sinking,

I wonder why she fights so hard. 

Night always comes, he wins 

Cat sits quietly beside me, black thin 

My companion, confident, secret keeper. 

Marbled eyes slit against the fighting sun, 

She will not tell him. 

She thinks only of hunting and leaving.

I want to love her, 

I run my hand along her back, 

She licks my scent away. 

The light has reluctantly been pulled away,

Our pause is almost over.

Leaning  forward, I push the window open

Damp skin reacts, I shiver.

I must dry myself and get ready.

Dress so nobody can tell.

Decision made, cat jumps into the evening,

Whiskers heavy with anticipation.

The mattress remembers black cat was here,

The sun has finally left,

Dusk unable to support her weight relented.

Shadows push at the frames,

Sleeping black forms wake and torment me.

Cold and alone in the dark,

I know the windows need cleaning but,

I can no longer see. 

I close the window to stop it,

To keep the blackness out.

Knee under my chin, I dry between

my toes, stand to dress.

The room is dark, numbly I prepare,

To face the evening shift.

Applying the sun back to my face

with blush and red lipstick.

 

 

 

 

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