Nocturnal

My eyes will glow, as I hunt vermin,

beat out rhythms on the hardwood,

distract myself from the hurt

of absence, of emptiness.

Thorny-pawed, scratched up,

bleeding and bruised,

taken a licking, keeping on ticking,

unsure–to what I’m counting down.

Eventually I wear out.

Eventually I curl up on myself,

and fall asleep waiting for the hovering stroke

of gentle hand–of a gentleman.

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