the beekeeper.

faux.

to think that he loves you
is like drawing a face on a white board
and convincing yourself it can speak.
one wipe,
it's gone.
to put your faith into him
is like dropping chocolate coins into a well
and wishing that he'd grin at the thought of you.
to fall in love with him
is like driving a car without breaks:
fast, dangerous, heavy.

and you've done all three.

you, baby, are the first penguin to dive off the cliff
and into the frigid waters that could possibly be infested with leopard seals
or squealing orcas,
bloodthirsty and ingenious.
you are the most idiotic,
gung-ho human being alive
with such a lack of self-care.
caution is a foreign concept.
wary is banned from your brain.

when will you learn to be careful?
when will you learn to pay attention?

and tonight when he whispers goodnight
and you fall asleep imagining his arms around your plump body,
you will be deceiving yourself yet again.
who lies more to you, him or the mirror?
such a good question.
such an ugly answer.
goodnight.