It didn't matter what time of the day was it.
What lip balm you were using.
Your shade of lipstick.
Your lips tasted like honey.
The thing is... you were really scared of bees.
But you were a puzzle to solve, because you loved yellow and black.
And we used to joke about them.
A lot.
"Why are you bee-having like this".
"Are you buzz-y or can you come and watch a movie".
"Stargazing night? I'm all-a-buzz for it".
"Bee-live me, my heart buzzes only for you you".
But now it's all gone.
Which is curious, because...
Honey...
Honey never spoils.
I would've loved it if you had been the same.
But you weren't like that.
Our love was. It never ended.
And it never will.
YOU ARE READING
Broken Cassette
PoetryI can't remember what it felt to be. I never knew what it was meant to be. I just knew I was supposed to be there. I guess I'll never know. What was it, again? What was the purpose? You made me feel loved. You made me feel love. We weren't meant to...
