The thought of you is like honey and broken glass.
Sweet but hard to swallow.
It pricks the back of my throat, broken shards, I know you'll soon become only a memory to me.
Someone who I used to know and who used to know me.
How strange to know that when you look at me you see straight into me.
At everything I store inside.
But whenever I reach out to touch you, reach you, something shatters.
Like snow, the shattered pieces fall about you and I.
Coating us, our hair, our clothes, our skin.
It makes our fingers bleed when we try to touch so much as the hem of each other's clothing.
When you speak to me your words are like honey and you smell just as sweet.
Secret spaces and whispered words cloaked in velvet red.
Blazing sunset skies, fireworks, and fire burns.
You breathed butterflies into my being.
But I think a bee snuck in disguised.
It stung me once, it stung me twice.
All because I tasted honey, that was not mine.
All because I wanted honey, that was never mine.
