there is honey
in the crevices
that you left
touching them
leaves my hands
painfully sweet
it is all too
sickly for me
YOU ARE READING
unlit matches
Poetrycome and listen to the whispers of lions and the cries of fawns.
honeycomb
there is honey
in the crevices
that you left
touching them
leaves my hands
painfully sweet
it is all too
sickly for me
