the most beautiful thing: honey, raw
off of the fingers, sucked with might, sucked with joy, sucked with sadness at the idea of the end of this inhumanly raw sweetness, this product of so many hive-dwelling wishes and moments. it is made, taken for the ride towards me and given, bee to mouth, bee to mouth. the sting is just a moment, the soreness, days, the sweetness, years. honey is the most beautiful thing I drank today.