✦ Honey lit Moth

This is a poem about longing: a poisoned apple fallen from the tree, sweet as syrup, dangerous as fire disguised as nectar.

As my eyes locked with yours,
the cosmos burst in stardust —
only me and you,
a holy matrimony,
living dreams too wild to hold.

Was it you I yearned for,
or the way you made me feel?

I crave your supple skin,
the way your touch made me alive
in every place we haunted together.

I am drawn to you
like a honey-lit moth chasing fire,
mistaking it for nectar.

I know it will never work out —
but I never said I liked it easy.
I like it rough.

Sometimes I still feel it —
your energy,
your silent gaze pressing on me.

Perhaps I do not desire you.
Perhaps I only fancied
a piece of me
I saw in dark brown eyes,
as fine as rich cocoa.

Every apple has its poison. Every fire, its glow. Longing teaches us which burns we’re willing to carry.