Buzz. Buzz.
There is a bee in my pocket.
Buzz. Buzz.
I dread this buzz (but long for it).
Buzz. Buzz.
I pull it out roughly,
Press it's belly
And it is silenced.
I drop it quickly, it's warmth
An unbearable torture (but also a heartaching comfort).
Buzz. Buzz.
The small, but white-hot heat sears my thigh once more
Thawing (but making me feel more alive than ever).
I produce the bee once more.
I am melting before it.
I cannot bear to hold it.
But neither can throw it away.
Please.
Stop.
He is silenced once more.
I could crush him. I could lock him away.
He returns to his spot.
Buzz. Buzz.
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THE GOODS
You're currently reading the poem
Buzz. Buzz., which
was posted on Oct 3, 2011 by
Literary-Tremble.
This is a solo poem.
About this poem
"I've never written a poem before, but rip it up by all means...."
This poem is filed under:
Free Verse
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