The Sting

[wildhoneyheart]

You were golden in the afternoon sun.
A swarm of honey bees
kissing your bare skin.
And the world hummed around me.
Pressure in my chest
contrasted by the sweat rolling
down my spine.

You glistened like dripping honeycomb
and I stuck to the shadows
as if the treeline could shelter me
from the truth of you-
laid out in long lines and carved edges
and vulnerable but unafraid.

The bees kissed your collarbone
and I trembled.
The sting came fast and hard
into the back of my hand
and my gasp joined the damp curls
at the back of your neck.

Your eyes met mine.
And I knew I would never
not feel the sting.