I told her what I wanted.
My darkest flying dreams.
I told her what I needed;
That all was not as it seemed.
And I waited for her to say "okay, I won't tell a soul".
But she never said it.
She said what I had told.
Now they all know.
They know my little secrets.
The cat lost it's tongue with simply a word from me.
That cat and her tongue.
Like death with a voice.
None of her business.
Not her choice.
Maybe the cat should be for supper,
or maybe breakfast in the mourn.
Down, little kitty, this is a war.