We are separated now.
Our communal bond severed into a mince of galaxies collecting into dust from a distance away.
I am grateful that you are still alive, even as our separation is a sort of a death.
Memories of seeing you leap into yourself and have the zoomies, and loving each moment of it. I am here in which ether points of being available are a reciprocity. Where I can no longer depend on you for the support you brought from the comfort of your tiger striped fur.
I sigh in a longing sense to not only feel your purring rhythm, which comforted me as I gently pet the wild part, the most visceral part, which you allowed, “Yes you may touch me.”
I keep thinking your crawl will bring us right back into this room of a heart where you’re used to, you will pounce onto the bed with a look of, “This is mine!”
I’m not sure what joy I brought to your life other than you ruled my universe.