Cat Got Your Tongue?
The cat sits silent, velvet paws on the brink,
With eyes of amber, gleaming like thought unspun,
She curls in shadows where the words sink,
A thief of sound, before the sentence is begun.
The air grows thick, a desert without song,
Where voices wander, parched and lost.
You reach for the river of speech—but wrong—
The cat has drunk it, and the bridge is crossed.
A question hangs like the weight of breath,
On lips that tremble, bound in thread,
As if the world has whispered death,
To the words you kept but never said.
She sways, a queen of silence, purring light,
And in her gaze, a promise kept:
That what is held inside the night,
Becomes the dream where language slept.
Did you ever own the voice you gave?
Or did the cat, with quiet claws,
Carve out the sounds you let enslave,
And leave you mute before applause?
YOU ARE READING
100 Notes I'm Afraid To Write.
PoetryAs in the title, 100 notes I'm afraid to write, what's in my head, my gut, and my stomach, Best written in words, Thank you for understanding (if you doXD) This is My First Poem collection with some sad, deep, happy, and relationship problems poems...
