Drip

Your honey is stuck coating my lips.  Those bee sting lips that I pray to at night while I’m asleep.  My dreams are filled with the buzz of bumblebees.

Dreams are often strange like that.  Converting thoughts into picture form but distorted through reality.  You’ve stung me so many times how else could this go?

That honey is thick though.  I’ve sucked my bottom lip into my mouth and pulled with my tongue so many times but you’re still there.  Your brush painted across my hungry mouth.  I invited you in.  You’re so naturally sweet that it can never be too much.

So I’m stuck here with my mouth barely able to open, as if it was kept shut by a sticky candied sugar kiss that lingers until I die off to sleep.

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