Oh honey, honey,
golden in smiles and unclenched jaws,
honey in laughter and focused eyes,
tries to lie and tell me that oh
honey I can’t wait to do that,
and the sublime has rushed upon us
in this terrifyingly vast and great
honey dripping between us called
time, dried
sweetness to be tied
up, stored in jars beside the
suitcases; we hoard the honey,
honey, and we taste each
dripping moment on our tongue as if
it was the last flavor to
bless our tastebuds but honey
is never rotten-
it does not destruct itself against
the forces of nature nor against
the pent up pressure inside
its storage glass, passed between
us so we can take turns
looking through it,
hues of amber dripped
across the world in a sweet filter,
because honey, we need the
honey of time
to heal each other when we’re primed
for giving up but to climb instead,
I’m climbing.
I’m surviving in this mountainous jar
of honey in which we are enclosed,
underexposed and supposedly
bounding but still I feel
boundless, honey.
I feel boundless with you,
honey.