Honey.

The tension drips bitter,

onyx black like the coffee

you gaze into whilst you stir it

with loneliness, regret.

You tread the beaten path

in open air as a passer-by

leaves a lingering scent

of the rose water

which would douse my neck.

You reminisce,

clouded by the aroma

only to find your palms unclasped.

I took another path

when you eyes fixated

not on black & white parchment

but the Ebony & Ivory.

You touched thorns

until scarred, lethargic.

But you tasted the honey

that will return you home.

3 Comments Add yours

  1. ladyfi says:

    Wow – I love this! Especially those last two lines… beautiful.

    Liked by 1 person

  2. This is gorgeous, I love reading poetry but I’m terrible at writing it myself! I like the layout of it too, it’s very effective.

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Thanks so much. Hope you have a good day/night.

      Liked by 1 person

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