I wonder if you knew what it felt like when the mist of the rain stung softly against your face, would you stay outside with me a little while longer. It’s hard for me to write when I’m distracted so please put away your burning eyes from my mind. I spend the day drinking coffee, smoking cigarettes, and watching as the birds flitter and dip and soar outside my open window. The air is grace and light. Spring in winter, I know, the universe is off, it isn’t right, but for now just… a little more coffee, a little more cream. Let me be inside myself, let me be the hollow of church bells high above an ancient city square. In the middle of the afternoon, when the rooftops and the angles slope just so, I’ve finally caught the tail of a poem before it gets away from me like so many others have. The trick is to be vigilant, and still. I am very good at sitting still. Most people can’t do it but I can do it better than the others, though it can also be deceiving. My quiet silhouette draped over the depths of chaotic worlds I churn over in my thoughts, little ribbons of desire fingering rays of sunlight through the attic skylight of my daydreams. Memories of you and I distract me. Honeyed love, warm golden hues thick with sweetest satisfaction. I soften at the way you open me, touch me, reveal me. How much of me has been so long stowed away. How much of me those haunting eyes have not yet seen.

2 Replies to “Honey”

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