Honey

I’m lost again
Floating in a suspension
Of sweet thick amber liquid
Sweet on my lips
Rough against my skin
I cannot breathe
But I also can.

I’m lost again
Watering my garden
Of thoughts lined up
Against a spectrum
Unfocused
But now salt
Douses and inflates them.

I’m lost again
Pain begins to feel like pleasure
Allows for tangible evidence
I’m alive although I wither
From the shards of cascading past
Colliding with the present
Attempting to make amends
But now there is no future.

Future.
Such a novel sentiment to hold
To have and to hold
Novel sentiments of the old
Believing no more
To have and to hold
It isn’t real
Not for me
Not for the lost
The fragmented
The defected
The disposable.

©AyalaRain