• dani_speaks_ 6w

    the Lavender and the Bees

    Between the lavender and the bees,
    you told me what it means
    to hold someone like you hold me.

    You told me you don't want a cliché,
    don't want our days together
    to be like any other day.

    You were talking to me
    about how much you want me.


    I looked into your eyes,
    you weren't looking at me.
    Head tilted to the sky,
    almost looking for the words
    to explain what you mean.

    We were between the lavender and the bees,
    and I have never felt so free,
    With a boy,
    With a man,
    Not afraid you might lock me up in a room and throw away the key.
    Not afraid you might touch me in ways I didn't want to be touched,
    Yet.

    Not afraid,
    I was not afraid,
    How weird is it
    you don't make me feel afraid.

    Maybe it's the smell of the lavender.
    Maybe it's the buzzing of the bees.
    Maybe it's the way your eyelashes curl up to the ceiling.
    Maybe it's your voice which reminds me of the sea.

    Maybe it's just you.
    Maybe it's who you are.
    Maybe it's your heart, and soul, and mind.
    Maybe it's you.

    But maybe this is a trick.
    Maybe it's not real.
    Maybe there will come a day when I look back and read this poem
    asking myself how was I so very naïve,

    Maybe I'm just not used to this.
    Maybe all the men I have ever met
    have disappointed me beyond measures,
    Have hurt me in ways I can't explain.

    Maybe I will be okay.
    Maybe you weren't lying
    when you told me you cared.

    Maybe I need to stop overthinking everything
    and send this odd, confusing poem
    to the boy who's lips remind me of honey
    and who's eyes make me think of the forest.

    Maybe then he'll understand
    Why sometimes I might seem a bit scared,
    and way too intense.

    And while he reads it,
    I hope that he smells the lavender,
    I hope that he hears the bees,
    I hope that he feels my touch,
    I hope that this isn't all too much.





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