She swore, never
Ever, to make it sweet
Ever again.
Much sweetness had passed
Caramel mush, both
Honeyed and salted
Firming up to cloying
Stuck-on-the-tongue
Treacly… then sickly enough;
To let a bit of bitterness creep in.
The inviting aroma
Of a honeyed attachment
No longer soothed.
But the sticky-ness wouldn’t let her be.
That fabled fly in the honey pot.
Gluttonous yes, satiated too soon.
Scared to let the pot be
For who else might come by….
And so, as he drew himself closer,
Deeper, more madly yet, drinking
He could never guess how lonely
He’d get, when finally,
That Honey Pot, gave in.
Shattered, into slivers of sweetness.
That drew blood, when she tasted, off him.
09 April, 2018, Day#9 of #NaPoWriMo – as surreal and nonsensical as it gets.
April 10, 2018 at 12:43 am
Honey and treacle
Mush and caramel
Trickles down
And then — frown —
Gore appears in a nibble!
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April 10, 2018 at 4:19 pm
How much more is more indeed
On this no 2 souls have ever agreed
it is clear if you don’t give up greed
The paw in the bottle can’t be freed.
Intriguing with multiple layers to be fathomed.
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