The 8th Life is Hers

he wakes so angry
her claws (k)needing him
tiny blades; poking, prodding, piercing
skin.

he forgets so easily
she, too, was left
for dead; orphaned, rescued, homed
soul.

she grips life now
with you, only one 
before she must nest, 
instead, in dirt.
{if she wakes you again 
I will open the door for 
you.}

image Alexas Fotos

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