twenty-five | honey drips

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TWENTY-FIVE
honey drips from every crevice





Honey drips from my fingertips,
coating your wounds in it.
It soaks into your lungs
where all the suffering hibernates.
Are you still breathing?
I know the truth even though I'm asking.
How is your heart holding up?
Is it strong enough to take me with you?



    




What are some of your favorite holiday foods?
𒐀 Any kind of dessert, dinner rolls, and those little cheese & pickle trays.

May

𝐦𝐞𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐡𝐨𝐥𝐲 ➙ 𝘱𝘰𝘦𝘵𝘳𝘺Where stories live. Discover now