Stung
We jump So high and then get shocked When our knees give out and our flesh scrapes the floor. There has to be more to this, More to us, More than lying here together with a thousand Invisible bricks between us.
Could it be that we shut our eyes too tight And for too long, so that now when we See light we believe we willed it into existence?
Or perhaps it was that we were so desperate for the Cold breath of fresh air that we inhaled With such frequency, with such intention, That our lungs forgot what it was they had been looking for.
You were always the bee And I was never sure if swatting you away Would bring me more pain than good.













