the cat

The cat has got my tongue again,
curled up on the soft red couch
of my mouth
like a close friend.
I bring food and water
for him to lap up
before any can reach
my own parched throat.
He stretches out to sleep
as I slowly starve for love,
staring blankly at a screen-
I could call you but I don’t.

The cat has got my tongue again
and I cannot complain.
I’ve built myself into a shelter
for animals in pain.
They wander in and out
and I try my best at healing.
To be a safer place
I’ve learned to mute
 my inward screaming.
Will you stay awhile?
My doors are open
whenever you need me,
but I’ll understand if afterwards
you have more important places to be.