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Willow

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DearPoetry

Published: Sep 14, 2012

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Literature Text

Your confessional arms are Willow trees, draping lonely limbs around an empty ink-jar heart. Scars worn down like henna tattoos. A night witch scrawling her incantations on blue moons, rolling her letters into sentences like a curse. But, it is in these coffee eyes you have found a home.

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Was thinking about Willow, and her life so far. Then I started thinking about her as human and not just another abused cat. She must have been so strong to have survived this long.

This poem was born.