Honeybee

I am the one walking away
from you.

For a while,
that thought made me sick.

Now it is the only thing that makes this okay.

I found out secondhand

and skipped

all five
stages of grief.

(I went right to tequila.)

All I want to do is learn to smile at you and mean it before I cross the street to avoid you.

I am only looking to learn to move my mouth in a way that is honest but doesn’t betray my own trust.

It took me too long
to realize it was

not

romantic(, tender, or healthy)

to love someone else
more than I loved

myself.

Every time I pick up a pen, I’m not saying what I need to say.

Maybe I should have spent the last seven years

stacking up metaphors

instead of making promises.

Losing you is a poem I still haven’t written yet.

I never thought I’d have to.

I do not believe all love has an expiration date;

Love that bites its own tongue is not love.

Love that never calls you back is not love.

Love with an aim to change you is not love.

Love that does not make you feel good is definitely not love.

Love that does not grow anymore is not love anymore.

Love with chains is not love.

Love made up of conditions is not love.

Love that stockpiles excuses is not love.

Love that needs to be weighted down in order to stay is not love.

Love that is always too busy to pick up the phone is not love.

Love without forgiveness is not love.

Love that is unkind is not love.

Love that does not attempt understanding is not love.