a handful of fur.

how it fills the tension with caution,

whispered "i will eat you" to the direction

of the stress causing the grab.

she only holds my scruff when she cannot continue

so i look for ripping and tearing.

she holds on, i glare.

absorbing like a tea towel

the desperation so she is free.

i store it like a flash drive

remembering who hurt her.

you.

and the low growl chested

lying in a heap by the roaring fire -

yes i see you.

traitor.

i remember.

this here is the handful of fur

catching the grief

caused.

i am the heart outside the body,

because she has 2.

hers and mine.

ⴲ.