Honeybee
i love the early morning rasp of his voice
the birthmarks and burn scars
midsummer skin
i love the sticky rash of lust
the way a heart ticks until it implodes
the sugar soaked kisses
i do not love the way he smacks my face
the way he pushes too hard
the ways he does not love me kindly
i do not love my swollen cheeks
my bruised hips
my blood
i do not love my blood
i love the touch of innocence in the morning
before i have upset him
when we bask in apologies and ignorance of all our yesterday's
when the whispers are not wasps nests and he grins like greek god
when everything is beautiful except i say stop and he doesn't listen.
everything is beautiful except blood vessels clawing at the surface.
everything is beautiful except trying to scream when you've forgotten how to breathe
"please don't" puts him at ease
"don't touch me" doesn't mean anything
"i love you" tosses the dice
i lick arsenic off collarbone
slice the tongue, gargle blood
say goodnight like it's the last
could be the last
he cracks my bones between boulders
between fists
there is no difference
between matchboxes and kisses
seduction and resistance
him and his father
i feel like the guy that plays the flute
calls the snakes.
he slithers around my body
like intimidation
like he's sizing up the prey
like all those secrets in the wasps nest have been beaten out
swarming
buzzing around my head
like he makes me call him "honey" because he knows i'm drowning in it
and the one stinger i have would change nothing
who strikes first dies first
and i'm feeling courageous
feeling like a death wish
he paints me in blacks and blues.
violent hues.
the canvas colored in control is quite the masterpiece
and she's tired of being sculpted
tired of being the victim at his hands
cold and cracked.
i do not love the aching of nostalgia
the dry empty palms
the fear of hearing his footsteps in the middle of the night
but i love the fresh faced stranger in the mirror
the skin that does not rip itself off
the comfort in silence
in safety
i love sunsets that look like honey and breathing in
knowing i'm not drowning anymore
saying "you will never be a real man"
and knowing
knowing
i have stung him
|