Myst doesn’t hate her.
If she did,
HoneySpark
wouldn’t keep
coming back
with that ridiculous grin
cats somehow wear.
No.
This is love.
The kind
that swats you
before you chew
on the electrical cord.
The kind
that pins you
before you leap
off the bookshelf.
The kind
that says,
“You’re annoying.”
while secretly making sure
nothing bad
ever happens to you.
HoneySpark
will spend
her entire kittenhood
mistaking protection
for wrestling.
Myst
will spend
her adulthood
pretending
she minds.
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