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Harvest of Hornet's HoneyOases to which I am no longer shown thy way
Distant suns refuse to lure me night to night
Without breath while their plasma burns
Each good turn signifying my life cup's jealous increase
While blushed and boasting and swaying in song
Came to careless slopping over rare earthen rims
That which you were pouring
What solution was that which you made?
Granted were my days
A right not gifted, yet, to be owned
Salted, my servings
My water, my eyes, quenching all my thirsty regret
Exposed with no atmosphere between
Incensed, you are Rome burning
And the mad staccato of ancient strings overlaid
Next, an ego feeding
Growing, even as malnourished
Rumble and pangs, real hunger
On thy belly, worm
Time to feast upon the garden
Turning of head, snapping ground-flat teeth
Mash the leaves, unsheathe the beets
Squash the gourds, or, better to fill them complete
Apply the scythe in methodical preparee
Halve all you find, scrape and gnash til fingertips bleed
Spring to feet, legs a pump as if strung from
SolaceShe never slept well in the dark,
not without the children of the sun and moon
to guide her weary lids home.
Guided by the aftermath, she was always two steps behind.
What did the world look like to the girl who had been through it all?
Braved the heaviest of storms,
yet skipping over cracks in the pavement.
They said her eyes were the wisps of clouds before the storm.
To him they were reflections of pages overlooked.
She said it was like she lived the life of someone she had never met.
Laid out to dry, yesterdays news.
He knew her as the girl who was built to never collapse.
He wished he was too.
He loved her more than words could say, and yet her pain was such,
that at times, he feared she wouldn’t make it.
But on nights like these, even when it threatened to consume her,
he became convinced that somehow she would.
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