beauty, love, poetry, sex, women

monsters and reflections

I know my monster

Greying fur shimmering

In the twilight

It has my eyes

It lives in the forest

Far from causal insult

Its claws are clean

Short because it

Relies more on force

Than precision but

It can be gentle

Conscientious but not so much

It becomes a pet

Asleep wherever you’re

Looking to walk to

It knows love

And serves as its gamekeeper

When grief steals in

And cuts, my monster

Retreats until the scars

Turn silver like its fur,

It is drawn to wild honey

Erudition and capriciousness

Served with amused regard

I know my monster

And in so doing

Reach to a state of

Earthen grace.

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