You tasted like root beer;
fear resting on the tongue
like a wildcat crouching low down
to pounce upon its hunt:
your mouth on mine each month,
the perfect way to waste a year.
I remember lying beside you in cold grass
under the constellations of yet another winter;
splinters of trust; a hunting ground
of a bedroom; a snarl caught in my throat
where once I would have purred for you.
Untamed passion roared through us,
my claws caressing your face
into bloodied flesh; my gift
for a kitten of a lover.
And what had you ever meant?
Prowling nights soon forgotten,
like the promises you once swore to me.
I felt nothing anymore:
Not even a whisker of love.
When I left, you hissed my name.
Afflicted Dreamer 