I used to write forest fires into existence
Some words roll off tongues and drip out
of mouths like honey
Well mine aren’t quite as sweet
How could I speak of sweetness
when there’s so many bee stings to endure
And wounds
To bandage up
Honey,
I know my letters have stopped coming
I just got tired of the burned fingertips and the blisters on my tongue
You will hear from me if the spring ever does come
and I have only good and lovely things to speak of
-m.g.
Mar 19, 2020
Mar 19, 2020 at 12:15 AM UTC
I used to write forest fires into existence
Some words roll off tongues and drip out
of mouths like honey
Well mine aren’t quite as sweet
How could I speak of sweetness
when there’s so many bee stings to endure
And wounds
To bandage up
Honey,
I know my letters have stopped coming
I just got tired of the burned fingertips and the blisters on my tongue
You will hear from me if the spring ever does come
and I have only good and lovely things to speak of
-m.g.
