Sunday, April 19

Honey

a raindrop glides
down the windowpane
so too a tear
down my cheek

collecting in the hollow
of my throat
that burns from
holding back the pain

of bone against bone
where once there was cushion
now nerves tap urgent
messages to the brain

cries for relief
no longer stifled
by the small oval pill
once sweet honey,
coating the senses

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