portrait of a cat at 17 years old

color captured on soap bubble

when Phoebe sleeps behind my kneecaps—on the back of a pillow (a pillow emerging from in-between my knees)—

she’s warm with cat-life, and i am reunited with a deep, inner peace: a river of heat flowing through our bodies, like the origin point of a shared soul, before childhood brought the tar of soot and smoke;

so before i fall asleep, i bathe my mind in this peaceful river, a river flowing between bengal cat and human, until Phoebe’s body slumps with sleep and compels me to follow her into dreaming—

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