This Is About My Cat And Death In General

Many years ago I climbed a tree to save a little baby from the cold. We loved him. We kept him warm.

Death is always the same. Body and mind deteriorate. If you're lucky enough someone is around to put you down before madness and pain take you.

Rest now little one. I'll always remember your turquoise eyes squinting at me, your curious calling out in the darkness, and calm meditations in the morning sun. I'll miss my little monk. Whiner, BooBoo Keyotter Boots.. Kitty.

More of my past dies and I feel less and less like myself. I wish I could have been there to hold you one last time but it is only a selfish desire to consume and I cannot keep you.. or anything.

I struggle to hold onto memories but they're just bits of light passing by. When perceived by me, already gone.

I'm a vessel stumbling through the dark. Hurting heart. Heavy lungs. Missing things I thought were living.

On good days they walk with me but mostly they're whispers in the night.