You’re a bee

Golden and black,

not the kind that gives honey, buzzes around flowers,

the kind that stings

At first I thought it was self defence

At first I thought you would die like I did

when you left your sting borrowed in soft flesh,

But you returned

again

and

again

each time leaving a little bit more of youself

snagged in skin

It takes weeks for my blood to wash out your poison.

Yet you,

dont seem to lose your sting.

Never change, never learn,

a queen protected by her workers

in a cage of amber honey and waxy walls.

I thought you were a tumbling bumble bee

clumsy and fluffy, so nice to me,

but when you fly past, leaving me cold

theres no warmth to your yellow

your sting of poison never ending.

Maybe you’re a wasp.

i never could tell the difference.

Its a pity you have no honey,

to soothe the wounds you left peppered in my soul,

to smooth the lumps in my throat,

kept from choking down pebbles filled with tears.

The only generosity you ever gave me,

were the endless stings still throbbing toxicity in my veins,

the venom blackening my shine,

slowing my steps,

stealing my sleep,

my dreams

my joy

my life

the friend I thought I knew

The barbs leaking venom in my heart,

melt through meticulously stitched parts which took years to complete,

Leave a mess of torn pieces and melted twine.

Actions freeze and leave my pieces blue,

so different from your

Empty words, which flit between hot and cold

And your fucking

HOLLOW

GOLDEN

LETTERS

wasp