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The Tigress (Poetry)

They say that curiosity

killed the cat.

It’s a good thing

she has nine lives.

These windows,

these screens —

allow us to see

into lives

we are not a part of.

But if we look,

will we like what we see?

Will it set us free?

Or perhaps pull us deeper

into mystery?

Dreams are pleasant places

but they aren’t real.

Fantasy is just another vice.

A body - a face - an energy,

to root hope and kindle desire.

It’s the unknown

where magic lies,

where possibilities reside —

where anything can be.

An unknown story

waiting to be heard,

to be told,

to be written,

though reality dictates

it may never exist

outside of one’s own


Curiosity didn’t kill the cat,

it taught her.

It allowed her to see,

to learn,

to know

what was real

and what was make believe.

Because her mind is composed

of magic and mystery,

of adventure and peril,

courage and peace,

of an unwritten love story —

As vast and deep

as the sea.

The tigress awaits

one as curious

as she.

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