Thinking of honey and you
Thinking of you and puddles
Thinking of puddles and new flowers
New flowers and cleaning
Bleach and the sting in my nostrils
No
The sting this thing
This pulsing thing under my ribcage
Still trying to get it clean
From the soot, you left in it.
————
Thinking of honey (again) and burns
Thinking of burns and rage
Thinking of rage and forgiveness
Forgiveness and change
Quarters and their heft in my pockets
No
The heft this mark
This growing mark, thick with scar tissue-
We were never a sure thing-
Just dousing our wounds in honey
Thinking they would heal.
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