the beekeeper.

anaerobic organism.

i swear that i can survive without you.
i swear that one day i will be able to kiss someone without thinking of your lips,
that i can breathe in their scent
and run my hands over their arms and not look for your tattoo.
i swear that one day your blue eyes won't engulf me like the ocean
and drive me mad with a siren's song.
i wish that those days were here,
because it's been a couple weeks and i am still wrecked with your bittersweet memory.

i find myself pathetic,
which isn't necessarily a new thing,
but it's a growing tumor inside of my brain.
flirtation should not be a coping mechanism for heartbreak.
slicing and dicing skin like cannibalistic gordon ramsey should not be an alternative to tears.
i crave your body.
i crave your kiss.
i crave your jokes.
god, bird boy, i miss you,
and i desperately need to get it through my head that trying to replace you isn't the right way to cope with your disappearance.

i need love to survive,
and it's horrifying to spectate my own rash decisions.
turning to family isn't an option,
my friends won't give me the time of day,
so where do i stand?
in the heart of men,
ankle deep in boiling blood and sexual fantasies.
i love luring them in and discarding what i don't desire.
i love tearing people apart and sicking stinging insects on lovers.
i love looking at myself in the mirror and telling myself, "little man, you're a disgusting whore."
i love not being able to reciprocate unadulterated affections for people who admire me greatly,
but pivoting and sobbing when someone does the same to me.
i live for my shit hypocrisy and goal to trap good boys inside my deadly hive.

why i can't spread positivity like butter and dish out support like dinner escapes me.
instead, i set cages filled with jars of sweet, sweet honey
and snap the doors shut on any takers.

some asshole broke your heart?
get revenge.
break two.
it's the only way to survive.
it's the only way to breathe again.