He was my favorite song,
The way he talked, like a melody,
Every rhythm falling just right.
I felt so alive,
Sitting next to him,
Feeling like I was home.

He wasn’t rich,
Could barely afford lunch,
Not famous or handsome.
Pffff—who cares?
Because I didn’t.
He was perfectly imperfect.

Those plump, pink lips,
So cute when he’d pout,
Sulking over the smallest things,
Childish—
Yet my heart would flip.

We shared the same loves,
Both of us cat people,
Those furry balls curling up,
Nestled in our arms.

Once, he told me,
“You look like a kitten yourself.”
And damn—
I felt my cheeks flush,
No hiding the blush...