The honey dripping from his hands
Will only ever taste as sweet
As what is abiding in the hive of my heart.

The lips not enough to feast on.
The glass dry as home.

But dine we will
On the food we didn’t pay for.

Deep draughts of sweetness.
Cups overflowed.

Holding honey hands
And kissing lips
That don’t complete me.

I Am.

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