Free Kittens
by Ryan P. Kinney

Whenever I see one of those signs
Advertising cheap, easy love
I am reminded of my darkest hours
When I fed my addiction to affection
To a love, a life I could control.
To something that needed me.

Surely they’ll love me
And quell the devouring loneliness and disconnection

Like little furry ******
Without the ***.
Wrong kinda *****
Wrong kinda love

When I had a full harem
I discovered, there is such a thing as too many
They were infested with parasites and ailments
Without constant attention
They’d **** on and defile
My every possession

My childish and selfish delight
Turned into an overwhelming nightmare
I didn’t know how to handle them
I never did
Never her
Never myself

Each time I put one down
I’d see their scared faces
Pleading “Why don’t you love me?”
“Because,” I’d say, “She didn’t love me.”
“None of them do.”
“They won’t keep me.”
“I can’t keep you.”

Unable to understand why
As I snuffed the life out of each little creature

Pushed to the brink
They became souvenirs of desperation
If this horrifies you,
Then you are right.
It horrifies me too

I cared more for those cats than my grandmother that year
At her funeral, I said prayers for them
Her entire 77 years more worthless than several weeks with each cat
Grandma- Dead in my heart by her own callousness
The kittens-By my own hand for their innocence