They’re like a cat—
stretching slow, testing space,
eyelids heavy, watching,
a fleeting invitation to trust.

Soft as silk, the belly beckons,
deceptively tender.
But trust is fickle.
Stroke too much, press too close,
and claws flash, teeth find skin—
not cruelty, just instinct.

Most expect devotion,
steady as a dog’s loyalty.
But some are different—
more like firelight, flickering,
impossible to hold without burning.

Maybe only cat people understand.

—T.A.