the beekeeper.

zack iii.

they say first impressions tell a lot about a person,
but i never trusted them.

you were not the first, but you were the most prominent.
when we met, it wasn't in my house,
or in my yard,
or at the grocery store,
or any building at all.
i was looking out the glass of a rickety, broken down bus
and there you were:
staring,
analyzing.

the dead grass brushed against the bottom of your knees,
even if it was tall;
you were taller.
your fingers were like hooks,
drifting thinly in the crisp, cool air.
you were as emaciated as a stray dog
and i could see your rips poking out of your skin.

it only made you look more hungry.

which you were.
you were starving.
i could tell by that lustful grin
and the way you sized me like a piece of meat:
bloody,
tender,
ready to be devoured by the carnivorous.

from a fleeting glance,
i knew things would never be the same.

i never trusted first impressions
until i met you.