Honeybee

In the tapestry of my life you were but a loose string a snag on the pattern of my being woven through the years as I look back at that season filled with so much passion but so empty, like I was a cracked jar my oil continuously pouring out of me leaving me high and dry. I was weaving and weaving trying desperately to fit you into my story A plot I thought you’d play the protagonist Sadistically licentious was our bond My flesh became yours My body your temple was it pleasure? was it love? what is pleasure? what is love? It was the house we dwelled in, the tarp to our canopy of affection that we pulled over us when it rained to keep the water out that would leak in and defile our home Home was what I was looking for when I gave you all of me was where I needed to be when I let you into the void that consisted of my soul which I gave you the key to that I threw away long ago. It was a locked door in the attic of my spirit You dusted it off and opened the windows letting all the sunlight in until it would start raining again Because when it rained our souls would drown without a single life jacket between the two of us. So your light would flick away from mine. Did it make you ache, leaving me so? my body wondered, while another planted lips and fingertips across my landscape different lips new fingertips imprints that didn’t belong to you or me anymore so we fell apart so our home burned to the ground ashes to ashes love to lust did I ever really love you? or me? the truth slithers down my spine like a chill circling repetitiously, a condescending carousel my brain, wondering if your heart tore in half when you realized it was our final greeting the last meeting with our souls still intertwined. You, the thorn in my flesh Me, your used-up tissue The Goodbye of half of me the stinger torn from the bee a loss that should’ve killed me