A botched attempt at interpretation.

it’s unbearable
numbing and crushing
destroying
my will
to live
this darkness
surrounded by loneliness

the body keeps score
resurrecting at night
re-living early in the morning
when it’s dark and you’re lonely
fragile most vulnerable
waking up crying
remembering replaying
traumas past and present

there is a sadness to spring
as the days grow longer
the weather warmer
there is nowhere to hide
no excuses to give
missing the cold
the dark nights
sitting with a blanket
by the fireplace
hidden from the world
and it’s problems

My autocrat of a
cat
sat on the pedestal
and watched me type.
His eyes, slits, like
slivers of emeralds.

He took a paw,
licked it, and
washed his despot face.
He owned me.
I did whatever he
wanted.
He sauntered off,
then turned and
watched , as I
took liberty with
truth, for the
sake of
imagination and creation.

I dreamed last
night that he could
talk.
He just said two words.
"Beautiful lies."