Bit by a Dead Bee, Pt. I

Still soft when speaking from white flag book lungs Bees made hives on the back of her tongue I took weightless words Her clouds move right through me A line of best fit Landlocked in light Her teeth marks patched up the lines on my palms The edge of her spine braided into mine We were mute in the mouth of the moon We were mute in the mouth of the currents Of blood vessels containing the sea That keep you from coming back to me That keep you from coming back to me That keep you from coming back That keep you from coming back to me (cont.) (Bees made hives in the mouth of the lion I made my home in the house of a liar) That keep you from coming back to me