Honey Part II- Mi abeja se pierde

Honey Part II- Mi abeja se pierde

Mi abeja se pierde,

My bee is lost.

Honey is gone.

We ran off the table and

made it sticky and

it hurts to look at the places

where we fell so

beautifully in the


Honey is gone

but my inspiration is not.

honey is gone

but I am not destroyed

because I am stronger than that now

no more crying for boys

even if he did deserve me.

Honey is gone

so suddenly there is still golden remnants

on my bed and on my counter top

and in my laundry and on my desk

and most of all in my mind.

Honey is gone and

while I am bereft I am not broken.

Honey is gone but now I know

he wasn’t the one.

Honey is gone and I was right, there will only be a PART I.

I miss you when I wake up because I remember waking up next to you.

I miss you when I go to sleep because I remember how only two days ago we said goodnight.

I miss you when I eat breakfast alone again.

I miss you when I do my laundry because I remember our long conversations in the hot folding room.

I miss you when I listen to music that we loved together.

Honey is gone, but I still remember the sticky taste in my mouth as if it was yesterday, because it was only yesterday.

My chest aches and my eyes water as I write this, but I’m fine and I forgive you already.

Oh honey. We should have been more than what we were

but we weren’t.

Honey Part I

Honey Part I

Ambered honey crystallizes

with six sides in my mind.

Sticky sweet, dripping from

the rim slowly in large droplets.

Prisms fly as they catch

the light.

Sweet with a bite,

amber and gold,

no maple syrup here.

Your tongue in my mouth.

Your hands gripping mine

with a fierceness I cannot comprehend.

Breathless gasps, fogging my glasses with our excitement.

Deep-seated pleasure,

Cloying pressure.

Your head rests on my shoulder,

I can feel the sweat as you kiss my neck.

My hands on the wide expanse of your back.


Honey crystallizes with six sides in my mind.

We are honey,

slowly slipping from the rim,

falling through the air,

catching the light as we fall.

You tend my figs so carefully,

keeper of my orchard, my vineyard.

I climb your trees, swing from your lovely limbs.

I pick your apples, and I eat them with honey.