It's way too bright outside, to be this gloomy. But here's my corner, on the left hand side of an unmade bed. To get up or not to get up? I pick at a jasmine flower for the answer. Just then, the last petal spills onto the floor and I know now to — a cat or three slide open the door and spill into their respective seats.
The former stray sunbathes under the light of today's morning, stretching its limbs. White socks peddling the air above its head, contrast to its thick layers of black liquorish and warm brown fur. Set against plumes of cushions, are bright green gems. A comfortable four legged friend cushions the cushions and hidden behind a jagged desk chair cat three cradles itself.
I wonder what it would be like to see this world with their eyes in the sockets of my own face, stomach churning at the idea.
To get up and close the door or not to? There's no petals left, so I pick at the stem. It's less bright than before, what time is it? I decide on 12... it feels like twelve. A haphazard exercise routine and a shower later, and I'm still in bed, wondering where the day has gone.
YOU ARE READING
Once Upon A Time, Time Stopped
PoetryDon't let your mind wander too far, for it will lose its selves - soul, thought and body. A soul that has lost its body is like a cat straying until it cannot pick up the familar scent of home anymore. It never returns, falling slave to a human God...
