tasca

Let me stick you in my pocket. You'd be warm and cozy and well contained in there. I would feel you curled up at my hip and pat you softly with silent contentment, knowing that you are safe.

Your dimples and soft skin need meet no more harsh gusts of reality. They need face the possibility of judgment and rejection no more. The guarantee of regular visits from adoring fingers seeking your warmth would be the only surprise. But these would come often to curl up in your flesh. I know you're not a cat, and that a life of safe contentment isn't the vision you hold for yourself. But then why do you purr in your sleep?

No, this isn't a proposal of love; we're both too selfish for that. But no one wants to go through life with empty pockets and find their heart shivering out in the cold.