That black cat
lies flat
on its back.
Eyes lock
a stiff squint,
lips gape
their last kiss.
Hang low
crooked claws.
Fog crawls
a cursed moon
in dew
of morn break.
Was I the last you warned?
They are black cat moments–when at night, the full moon is lit white, and the sea is at its darkest run. blackcatwords.com
That black cat
lies flat
on its back.
Eyes lock
a stiff squint,
lips gape
their last kiss.
Hang low
crooked claws.
Fog crawls
a cursed moon
in dew
of morn break.
Was I the last you warned?
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