Dec 1, 20201 min
Honey Pot
Molly Longley
Honey drips from my lips.
This artificial sweetness
has become too much.
Hip dips and more hip swings.
Did I look like this before?
Maybe I can’t see straight
with this constant buzz of rules
ringing in my head.
My mind is just a hive.
Enclosed within is layers
of bittersweet wishes
and hate, I will never be
pretty like queen bee.
This hive is dangerous,
I have seen the death it’s caused.
I know removing the
frame that’s caused this infection
will create new life.
A well-functioning hive,
where honey thrives and stays within.
If honey stays inside,
maybe I can feel the way
she does, dandy and loved.
I could be the candy
people crave, the buzz returns.
I will never be loved.
How can I be? I will
never be queen bee.
Honey creeps up my throat.
Maybe I can keep it down
tomorrow.