Your words,
they pulled me like tide on tethered soul
each line a hush,
each verse a look I wasn’t ready to return.

I fought this.
Dodged your warmth like it might burn.
But oh, the fear
that you’d see right through the quiet,
to the hunger I bury under silk and sarcasm.
Desires not made for daylight.

Your poetry
exquisite on page,
sinful in my mind.
How lucky your muse,
to be the wellspring of your art.
How luckier still am I,
to drink from it.

Your hands
a haven.
My head in your lap,
countless times I’ve drifted into the safest sleep.
Fingers laced as you drive,
windows down, world forgotten.

I hate this feeling.
I do.
But I can’t cut it out of me.
I know what this is
and what it isn’t.

So I beg you,
Honey Bee…
let me be.

Because if I come too close,
you’ll sting.
And I’ll break.
Mercy,
on me,
and on this stubborn heart
I can’t take a love
that never starts.