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honeybee Jan 2016
you painted on my tongue
i can hear your gentle voice
wrapped around my jarring words

i tried to brush you away
drowned myself in mouthwash
tied a noose with floss,
but

you will never leave me
i am stained

i'll never know
the paintings i'd create
if i hadn't kissed you first
i don't want you there anymore. i don't want the feel of you on my skin, i don't want you. it's not healthy to drink yellow paint.
honeybee Jan 2016
a pink and purple prison
where paint peels off
white washed walls
concealing pleas for help

i am incarcerated,
eating tiny white candies
and drinking honey

while
empty eyes stare
for they know the demon
they let him crawl inside
their throat red raw from his
dark claws

while
the world turns,
people with honey
in their stomachs
wonder
why i've evaporated

but they don't understand
that
my bed is empty,
a plastic mattress
with smooth sheets and
soft blankets
and i am empty
with hollow limbs
and wide smiles

when i wither to nothing
and let the demons come,
i swallow them whole
so i don't feel
like nothing anymore
i am so hungry, i want to feel alive. i want my chest to feel full of honey and love. i want to feel something.

— The End —