i heard a slight sound.
squinting from the dark and
my lack of glasses,
i spotted my cat
who i had thought disowned me
because i had to give him up
because my mom loved her dogs more
than me.
but i stood there
as my cat wove between my bare calves
(something i don’t experience often
because i have to constantly hide the scars
but it was midnight,
and the world was asleep)
and i drew on the cigarette,
calm
and smooth,
open and vulnerable
(but shrouded by darkness).
i picked up my cat
and held him close,
careful not to bother him
with the smoke,
and i told him that i loved him
and i miss you
and that i am sorry that i had to leave you behind
and i am sorry i can’t come to see you more often.
he purred,
and then i put him down.
i went back inside.
my hands were stained with the sweet smell of tobacco,
my shirt stained with hairs that my cat had shed.
and my mind at peace
and i thought that,
since he forgave me,
i should be able to forgive myself, too.
and i enjoy wishful thinking in the middle of the night.