I sold a part of my heart
for a bag of cat food.
Precious and Gabby
their given names
but they are really
the Enigma's
(and who names feral cats, anyway?).
They are not so indifferent
as they'd have me believe -
miss a feeding, or be simply late
and it's impossible to conceive
how starved for affection
my feline friends had become.
These not-so-wild things,
they own me now.
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What a lovely poem! I can sympathize - I, too, am owned by a cat. I miss her even when I'm gone for an afternoon. But I think the feeling is mutual, so I can claim she is equally codependent.
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