You were sweet, yes. I won’t be the poet who compares you to honey for it, but yes. You were honey.
But not for your sweetness; honey–
Not in spite of your acid, but because of it.
You are the gods painted
in our imperfect, mortal image.
In your mortality, in your burning
In your acidic, golden eye.
Honey.
-
Feb 10, 2020
Feb 10, 2020 at 10:13 PM UTC
You were sweet, yes. I won’t be the poet who compares you to honey for it, but yes. You were honey.
But not for your sweetness; honey–
Not in spite of your acid, but because of it.
You are the gods painted
in our imperfect, mortal image.
In your mortality, in your burning
In your acidic, golden eye.
Honey.
-
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