Sweet

I was honey

Not an entitled nickname

But because you said my face reminded you of its raw taste

Thick drips into tea 

Of which you regulate like water

For you

I became sticky

Pink walls painted white

I am pure

To your fantasy

In which you control

Commenting on my curvaceous attributes and nothing else

And to the reason of which I am loved,

My body became your fruit

Forced juices carbonating behind shivered skin

You found a leak

And with no intentions to patchwork

You persisted to explore what was forbidden

Chilled Fingers cutting through imperfections

Raising your desire

To which you would take a bite

And you said I was sweet

Like Orange Sorbet

Yet

Dowsed in cooled salt

And like kindred beings

You played with your fruit

Using graveled fingers to widen crevices

Filling them with whitened seeds

You told me it was something about the way a colored girl smiles

The way her naturally ombre lips separates when she speaks

The way her sun-kissed skin illuminates behind every creviced laugh line

The way her pearly whites express everything beyond beauty

You said we were like roses

Often glorified

But more or less overlooked

Picking off petals like you’ve stripped skin

Revealing a bud stained with reddish tints

Similar to the ones in which you’ve buried in whitened seeds

And so you treated me like a rose

The one you always watered

Yet never exposed to sunlight

And with prayers to GOD to ask for your separation

You continued to bite

A repetitive repetized repetition

Warmth from rancid drips

Protected by ribbed shards

You sank deeper

And as you sank

I lay lifeless

Wondering

How many stars would I have to pass to get to the gates of heaven

How many cars would have to be on the road for Johnny to never come across

How many bullets would have to pass in a 4-player game of Russian Roulette with a .17 pistol

And with trying to reclaim consistency

I became accustomed to discomfort

Because while you were addicted to my fruit

I was addicted to being your addiction

And with masochistic intentions,

I never said stop

Because you called me beautiful

You said my lips

With intentions like venus

Trapping you like flies

Every time you said you needed a bite

And with sharp teeth in the dullest soul

I became your chew toy

But you called me beautiful

You said my skin

Reflective of the finest hershey intrigued your taste buds

Salivating at the mention of my name

You begged for a taste

And like anything sweeter than sugar

I was your natural honey

And for me?

You were like a box of chocolates

A delicacy for short period of time

A slice you fathom over the last bite

The last sip of colder cup of colored kool aid

Simply put:

You were sweet

And I was honey



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