Words like honey

My beloved and I

we share a secret.

Our gift is language

fluid, fiery, rowdy and wry. 

Words spun between us

silken and impossibly strong

delicate, invisible, lighter than air,

are but vessels

carrying dutifully the finery of our love

upholding the essence of all

our eyes would say

if only we had ears to hear them.

These words,

these potent, holy morsels

are like honey:

When hot

they flow like water

running over skin bare and enlivened

making everything sweet

and sticky

and satisfyingly messy.

Our words;

they are colored by the flowers 

in the fields 

from which that sweet nectar was harvested.

From deepest amber,

to golden and fair

but always fragrant

and forever sweet

and always produced in the purest intent

by the humblest of makers.

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