humming bees

House of Heart

I am no where near dying

but I can find no room here

for breathing.

When first I laid eyes on you

I unfolded like papyrus layers

wet from the Nile.

This intricacy of doubts,

all wounds and scars

becoming something holy.

I’ve captured your voice,

reassembled it in my throat

to not forget the way you sound.

A thousand humming bees

flitting from the catch in my throat

when I open my mouth to speak.

.

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