She is narrow-faced and nimble bodied,
Her shifting eyes, her secretive heart.
She slinks against my leg, little mewls falling from her mouth.
Her body curves like a river, breath like water whispering against its bank.
Like clockwork, her eyes flick to the cell in which her true desires are locked away.
I understand her intentions but deprive her a few moments more.
Desperate to savour these fleeting moments of affection, As she is to free the contents of that plastic prison. Another mewl, another loop around my ankle as I liberate her from her agony. She who is so ready to make me a mouse, with actions always wrapped in agenda. I may hold the key, but we know the true predator in this game. For my sweet little tabby wears not a collar, but the crown.
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