Honeybee
Nectar always tasted sweet to me, but now that you are gone let me tell you that my tongue is confused by the bitterness left behind. I can't hold it against you, it is only your nature to sting. Somehow though I was the one who ended up gutted. Evisceration would have felt better. You left behind a stinger in my heart and venom pulsed through my veins. I wasn't allergic to bees until you flew away, and when you did I went full anaphylactic shock. My throat swelled shut and I could not breath, my eyes were swollen and shut and I could not see the light of day.
Honeybee, I am glad you went your way.
About the Creator
Michael Harrison
Adventurer and nature enthusiast. Aspiring children's book author, novelist, and poet. Perpetual dreamer. My thoughts and ramblings are lost within the multitudes of notebooks I purchase and I don't have any hesitation in adding one more.
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dream \ ˈdrēm \
if my dreams were books they would be a series of unfortunate events the bad beginning, like a tortoise being thrown in a pond. that is that much like houses with wide windows, they cant swim. all these thoughts just milling, miserably around my mind like sawdust in a breeze, stuck to every corner causing a feeling quite austere. austere meaning in this case, of course, stern and cold. my dreams could never feel very morally strict, that would defeat the purpose. like an elevator that only goes down, it would be rather ersatz. these dreams are often vile, hostile, and often time carnivorous, devouring what little rest i have before i can wake up and leaving me sliding down the slippery slope of dark thoughts, into a grim grotto of depression, anxiety, seemingly the penultimate place i will find myself before i reach the end.
By Michael Harrisonabout a year ago in Poets
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