Bees that sting
those that live and thrive
on your very love
who take that which you give
so selfishly from your hands
as though
saying
accusingly
"you loved me"
In a split second
your torment begins
not from the sting
but from the fact that the very bees
you did love
have hurt you in vain
for sweet honey
as if in self-gratification
do say
"you loved me"
and yet you give and you give and you give
lest it be so that there is nothing left to give
and yet you do
and they say, with their stingers
little buggers that they really are
"you loved me"
as if to say
"you don't"
