Living Poetry

I am living,
liquid ink.

Pooling and
sleek tears
from a
black place,
I move as
smoke, curling
a sweet message
unheard.

Dancing through
grass, sunlight
plays on me,
grace embodied.

I live where
you only pretend
in dreams, music,
laughter.

I am a cat,
a hungry poem.
Feed me.

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