I want to move you with metaphors,
my words tracing a line down your spine,
recognition lifting the hairs
along your skin.
Until your pupils widen,
your soul startles awake,
your pulse
climbing the delicate veins
of your neck.
You taste the meaning,
a sweetness so familiar
you begin to wonder
whether it was written
with you already inside it.
Intoxicated.
You never notice
how you arrive.
Only that you’ve landed
upon this flower,
already drinking
my nectar.
When you leave,
something continues flowering.
In the hive of your mind,
nectar becomes honey,
and honey
drips
onto your pages.
My name is Mara, and my publication Organised Overthinking is part poetry, part observation, part “I should probably have kept that thought to myself.” Making eye contact with the human condition and then writing about it. If that sounds like something you would enjoy, I would love it if you would consider subscribing.
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Beautiful!
Mara, I really love the imagery you've landed on here - the bees, the hive, the nectar, the honey. It feels like such a beautiful metaphor for writing itself.
We rarely notice the moment words enter us, only that somewhere later they've become our own thoughts. I especially loved the idea that what begins as nectar leaves as honey on someone else's pages.
A beautiful poem pollinated by wonderful images and ideas.