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Writer's pictureCat Webling

Trinity

My car should not have been a hearse

For your still little body in the backseat

I pulled the shade down beside you

So it wouldn't be in your eyes

Though that really didn't matter anymore


Your fur was so soft

The pretty white stained red

And aside from the gore of your face

You could have been asleep

It was strange because I never saw you sleeping


Your baby watched with terrified eyes

As I sobbed when I couldn't break ground for you

She doesn't understand why you won't come home

Or why I cried when I saw her little face


Your sister back home doesn't understand

Why it's hard to look at her now

And hear her scream for food the same way you used to

With her whole voice echoing with authority

She's a year younger than you

And looking into her eyes feels painfully familiar


I couldn't find you so I called out

Hoping against hope that you'd come

Not like this, never like this

I still feel your limp little form in my arms


You were mine in every way that mattered

Except the only way that could have saved you

And I should have brought you home

Long before that meant burying you by your mother

In the shade of flowers you never got to see



 

For Trinity, a beautiful calico farm cat. Tell the others I say hello, and I can't wait to see you all again.



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