Honey

He was like honey. That was the only way I could think to describe him. From the color of his skin, the glow of his eyes, the sweet dripping tones of his voice, to the way his presence clung to me....Honey. But he wasnt just honey, not some simple jar packed with nature's sticky sweetness, no. When he was made they packed in a little extra, some dark, rich spice that deepened the amber molasses. There was a bit of darkness like someone put him over a flame and stired him up just until he was about to burn. Some spark of mischief that thickened his essence..

When I first met him my eyes had been closed, so I never saw him, never paid a second thought. But upon the next rendition of our meeting I was unknowingly caught in his trap. It wasnt long before I tasted the sweetness that was simply him. And it was more than just the way he spoke to me, or the way his words, his presence tasted on my tongue. No it was the way he made me feel, like maybe I was honey too. He would pool himself around me and drown me in his skin, but he was stuck on me too. He made me feel like I was something sweet to savor, like just a touch of me would cling to his fingers, dripping from his skin, from his thoughts.

Author's Note

This is a special piece/thought/scribble, I want to write more but I'm tired and my thoughts are dragging and I think this deserves more effort than I can currently give.