Honeybees

I could write an entire poem about the way it felt like a million honeybees buzzing around my insides when you'd grab my arm as I walked past you and how it felt like each and every one of them stung me when you stopped noticing when I walked past you or about how I felt like I could talk to you forever when we sat in that coffee shop for the first time and how I learned that there's no such thing as forever when I found out that it would also be the last time And I could write a billion stanza's about how I can understand Darwin's theory of evolution, and why you should never fight the current if you're drowning, and why the moon seems like it's following you on car rides but could never understand why you loved that girl for 2 years when she stole every bit of your innocence and everything that made you whole And I could probably make a long list of different words that describe how you look on a Monday morning like tired and sheepish and unamused with the slow pace of traffic Or write a novel on why you stopped wearing your seatbelt the day your mother stopped wearing her wedding ring But I suppose that all I'd really be trying to say is that I miss you and that I still feel the stingers of the honeybees stuck in my skin.

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