Skip to main content

Honest Honey


In this dream you were the leaf, and I was the branch; clinging on to you with everything I had, but you had to let go when autumn came around.

In this dream you were the rain, and I was the windshield.

We collided, and turned glass and water into something made of magic.

The sun came out, and you evaporated.

In this dream you were the fallen flower petal, and I was the rock you landed on. Your final resting place.

We held each other together, until you withered away somewhere above my grasp.

In this dream you were the lucky penny, and I was the wallet.

One day our owner had to use you for exact change, and I never saw you again.

In this dream you were the candle, and I was the glass jar.

We burned with radiance until there was nothing left to melt away, and I was just an empty glass jar.

In this reality, I am still just an empty glass jar.

A fragile woman, containing an abundance of love, with no one to give it to.

In this dream, you are just a memory. In this dream I realize that’s all I have left.

I guess what I am saying is that I have always considered myself a bee.

A woman floating on air, constantly feeling the need to sting anyone who I feel is getting too close.

Having this irresistible urge to rest on the soft petals of a hand that is gracious enough to hold my buzzing exterior.

To create honey through midnight words, and allow the rain and sun to cleanse winter into spring so that I can live again.

Related Articles