she's a curious cat

beyond curiosity, curious as in kinda puzzling... as i sit back watching dvr'ed episodes of elementary and i relate so well to the isolation of the character so intellectualized that curiosity replaces the passion of love and hope that truly knowing another human is worth the challenge of overcoming the fears and trials and baggage, i mean, who will really lick your scars?...

so her is curious, awake and wandering, climbing over my arms, not touching the keyboard or disturbing my hands, but rubbing against me hoping for some petting... i've apparently discovered just the way she likes it and she wants it every night, late at night when all wise working stiffs should be asleep... and i want to sleep, but i have these thoughts running through my head, something like a song you never heard somewhat haunting, like holmes (no shit sherlock)...

she's a curious cat, looking at me longing, rubbing her nose against my wrist as if she knows she should not interrupt my fingers yet she wants to be rubbed, she wants to be loved, so i pause to give her what she wants because she waits patiently by my side... and she rubs and walks away and turns and rubs and walks away and does it again and again like a dance until she curls up at my side and falls asleep... occasionally waking, reaching out for my hand, she watches my fingers type these words, furtive, as her eyes close again... independently dependent, such a curious cat...

la la la...