27th May, 2025

Round Head climbed onto my back like it was a cliff face,

claws out not to hurt but to hold, stretching like a tiger frozen mid-pounce,

orange fur glowing under that red moon that made everything feel surreal, cartoonish almost —

he didn’t meow, just looked past me like he was deciding something, like the world below wasn’t quite ready for him —

I stayed still, felt the soft weight of him and the pull of the moment, this quiet absurd theatre of us,

shadow on the balcony, city somewhere below,

holding on for balance

or love,

maybe both.