‘On Being an Aromantic In Love’ or, ‘A Stray Cat, Owned’

Watch out! I'm going to love you!
I've chosen you like a stray cat
chooses the kindest hand to touch it,
chooses the one who takes the time
to learn what food it likes,
chooses the one who is patient enough
to wait for it to come
when it is called.

I might bite your hand,
but you tell me you like that
and allow me the time
to dull my fangs.
So, watch out! I'm going to love you!

Innocently confused owners have punished my purrs
because they sounded more like growls
and now my throat has forgotten the feeling of the sound
but you delight in pulling out quiet meows
and untrained yowls when you scratch my ears.
So, watch out! I'm going to love you!

I'm going to love you like a stray cat
who doesn't know how to love
but will learn by a gentle, firm hand,
who’ll regress to the wet alley kitten
that spits and hisses and shies away,
that watches from a distance with shining eyes,
that approaches when you patiently stay.

I will love you as I grow happy and fat
fed on the cream you choose for me,
as I go plush around my sharp limbs
and curl up in your lap in front of the TV.

I will love you when sense memory,
or my loveless nature rear their heads.

And when it happens,
that my back is arched,
or my claws are out,
or my teeth are sharp,
or softness is hard to find,
Watch out! I'm going to love you with my mind.