Some nights,
I hear him walking inside my ribcage,
tail brushing the wet bone.
He curls beside my heart,
kneading it
until it leaks to the dreams I have been hiding from.
When I wake
My pulse smells faintly of ash
and jasmine.
I never owned a cat.
Some nights,
I hear him walking inside my ribcage,
tail brushing the wet bone.
He curls beside my heart,
kneading it
until it leaks to the dreams I have been hiding from.
When I wake
My pulse smells faintly of ash
and jasmine.
I never owned a cat.