You were my honey bun, dripping golden liquid skin, glazed to perfection. But of course where there is honey, there are bees and with bees comes stinging and boy did you sting me. I knew I was allergic to your stinger, your thorn but I ignored the pinch. I ignored the blood shed over you. I ignored the emptiness in my chest all because I refused to let myself be broken all over again. I refused to have to work at putting all the pieces back together because starting over didn't feel right if I was not starting over with you. But I was allergic to you. Oh how your words pierced my emotions, how your distance ripped my very being apart over and over again even after I was certain there had been no more pieces to rip.
I sit and I reflect on every person that has gotten a part of me, every person that knows me better than I at times know myself and I yearn to understand why I always end up with the ones that I have to sacrifice myself for. Why must I be the one to have to surrender my soul, to unset my boundaries. Why am I always made to be picked apart and used.
Maybe I am a flower, and that is why I attract so many bees. Maybe that is why I allow myself to be stung even by those not worthy of stinging me.
I remember I said you were the first person I could write about while I was happy, how I didn't feel as if I was drowning but I didn't mind drowning if that meant drowning with you. However I mistook the suffocation of my mind as one we both shared. I thought for sure that if I would sink atleast I had you to sink with me. Yet I have come to see that you are the very sea that is drowning me.
I am deep under your water, engulfed in the depths of your existence but I'm not yet quite to the sea bottom. I am slowing dropping, surrounded in blackness, the noise of the dry world no longer greeting my ears. I feel empty yet there is a burning in my chest, a burning in my lungs. I feel all the pain in the world but I am numb, this being the very feeling I have while being with you.
I thought you were my honey bun... dipped, glazed to perfection but now I am aware that you are my sea, dark, suffocating. I remember when you were the first person I was able to write about while happy and I prayed to god that I'd never have to write about you in this state. But alas, here I am, once again in turmoil as I add another broken lover to my list.
