Writing

Reaching out like a hungry caterpillar for hallowed ground;

Floating in like a fairy on a warm breeze;

Falling like a rock from a parental source;

Being passed around like a secret on the backs of bees;

These are just some of the ways that you may have come to be;

Sweet little tree, grow a bit more for me

There’s just something so comforting about cats

Maybe it’s their strong consistent purr that begins to feel as much a part of you as the heart beating underneath your ivory prison bars

Maybe it’s their paws with the pink or black jellybean toes flexing in and out, a love letter delivered through fragments of morse code

Maybe it’s the way they try to answer you back when you finally give them a glance as you’re readying yourself in front of the reflective glass

Or maybe it is their decision to fall asleep at your feet or in the crook of your arm, completely at peace and at ease with their surroundings

There’s just something so comforting about cats

He, the rigid upright rock who thinks of himself as Michelangelo’s David

Maybe He is;

That would explain why his foundation so easily crumbled under pressure

They could have gone through this life together

Complementing and shaping each other over time like the tide does to the shoreline

Instead, He demanded immediate perfection from her that not even he could achieve

His well-enforced opinions burning like acid upon her upturned face

He chiseled away at Her until she was nothing more than pieces of her former self

Each strike of the hammer promised vast improvement in its wake

But humans of flesh and blood are not so easily molded

Frustrated He finally decided to use what he could of her and throw away the rest

He was a god

She was seen as replaceable

But herein lies the truth; She is alive

He is a cold slab of marble masquerading as a god