Giving Honey Another Chance

You spoon-fed me my first taste of love,
something I couldn't get enough of.

So instead of a sip,
I started with a swing.

Intoxicated from the start,
my ribs cracked open to make you space.
And with unwitting bravery, I let you in.

Lack of experience—
and the repercussions of so—
led me blindly into the sweet honey of love,
my hands sticky as I fumbled with it.

I swam deep within the thick amber—
until I struggled to catch my breath.

Glancing back to see if you followed,
only to realize I was engulfed alone.

I choked on the sweet matter,
drowned in the candied sorrows of what I thought was.

I no longer wanted honey in my coffee.
I will always find sticky parts from it.

But as time has gone by,
life no longer feels complete with just black coffee.

So I dabble—
with sugar substitutes and cream.

I proceed with caution,
tasting only with the tip of my tongue.

But recently, the breeze started asking if I'm ready for honey again.
The sparkles of the sun question my denial of cream.
The ocean examines if I'm ready for more.

How was I meant to drink this familiar sweetness,
if I knew how bitter it could get?

But then again,
the black coffee I was sipping on was already bitter.

So I think I'm deciding—
to give honey—

another chance.

________________________________

Hello, you! We hope this brought you a little warmth and maybe even a nudge toward love again. If it resonated with you, we’d love to hear your thoughts—share your story and send us a message. Let’s keep the conversation going!