secrecy, is it crime?
i keep mine, they stay untried
is it wrong, is it okay?
spun of spider silk, delicate
still, a whisper of what can be
but whispering is hard to hear
of worlds i stole, this honeycomb
is saccharine, forbidden fate
sweet like sugar on your tongue,
not molasses from a cane
dispel my drowning now
i wouldn't know what to do with molasses anyway