Cupped hands,

drinking sugar water from a bee's mouth.

I found you in a magic shop,

my little honey bee,

where your buzzing kissed my ears

and so I left the tarot cards on the shelf.


I have learned summer.

I have learned to push the hair

back, away from my face.

I have learned to sing,

to sing and be heard,

to swim in pools of honey

and not be worried

about washing the stickiness from my face.


Life is a million colors;

life is a million and one.

Life is kissing a boy's mouth and

tasting honey on his lips.

Life is letting yourself break,

because where I am broken

I am soft. 


With the loss of summer, now,

I feel the cold

and I appreciate the gentle bite,


I am sad to see my honey bee go. 


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