Home > Uncategorized > let honey spill

let honey spill

The secret is there is no secret,
no matchstick mouth, no fire,
no fingers looking for water,
no skin slick as an ocean,
no sharp gasp
into the quiet—
this is your imagination,
nothing more.

But what if it isn’t?
What if the story
is a spine arching,
the way hips move
in the dark,
how a kiss
can feel like coming home,
how wanting
is a new freedom—
an impossible reckoning
that appeared, unexpected.

Let the old ruin
draw a single breath,
then cease. Let honey
spill where there has been
heartbreak, an offering
of sweetness instead of knives,
let aged grief cool
into something
you can put down—
release it, a kindness
where there was once teeth.

The truth is, there is no evidence
of any of this, only longing,
this slow-blink want
as unforgiving
as a shock of lightning,
and all desire is like this, really,
named or not,
spoken or otherwise—
hearts sparking against ribs
until everything is aflame,
and no one is asking
for forgiveness
or permission.

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