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Writer's pictureYours Truly

HoneyComb

Updated: Oct 5, 2020


~


Heart:


porous honeycomb

whose multitudes of caverns

I mistook for

emptiness.


Heart--


whose beat

I likened to the pulsate of

a lacklustre neon sign


advertising the vacancy

of roach-infested motels

located on the outskirts of

indifferent highways


in the hopes

that someone

will stay the night.


I don't mean sex,

for the record--


I mean someone


anyone


who would wait out my

storms with me.


Even when I'd smash

champagne bottles against

the headboard


or throw fists at the walls


shards detonating upon

freshly fallen plaster.


When the boarders left,

they left at midnight

after I'd fallen asleep,

a crystallization of frost

settling onto my hibernating lashes.


I equated the uninhabited rooms with

desolation.


In reality,

they were merely vessels

for better furnishings.


To anyone


who treated friendship like it was a

strategy

instead of a

mutually empathetic connection;


to anyone


who engulfed me

in their own downpour

but were unwilling

to offer up their shoulder

as a lighthouse

when I'd lost my way:


consider this your

final eviction notice.*

 

*I've come to understand the difference between being left, and letting someone leave; often, the heart recognizes and evicts the parasites we host, before we, ourselves, realize their parasitic nature.

 

Image Source:

Daisies surround honey comb gif (n.d.). [image] Available at: https://www.tumblr.com/tagged/honeycomb [Accessed 19 Sep. 2020]

 
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