Apiculture

We danced like bees: to communicate thoughts. We buzzed on the floor and we scaled every wall only to find that the message we fought so hard to convey was irretrievably lost. I should’ve noticed myself, but I didn’t. I was practicing my steps in the kitchen and trying to straddle the terrible line between real sick and drunk, tired but not time to retire to sleep and let you fly from me like a hurt wounded bee who has given his sting – left it in some girl’s flesh and then went to seek death in a quiet corner of the house. Oh, I guess that I’d let my friends watch if they just had to know, let them study my eyes as the light from them goes out into the air, too thin to exist. I’d let them feel how nothing pulsed in my wrist and let it drop down if they lifted it up. I have given my love out too much.

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~ by perfectionatrix on January 28, 2011.

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