I’m deep in it now,
knowing that to be
near her is an unhealthy situation,
yet like a slightly wayward bee,
I’m drawn deeper into it,
seeking something from her
I’m not entitled to,
cannot resist,
accepting the role she assigns to me,
like a foolish school kid
sitting in the corner
with my dunce cap on,
aching over something
already expired,
stirring dead coals
with the hope of reigniting fire,
while she clicks her heals
wishing for “no place like home,”
all too aware of how easily
she can replace any of us,
this line of hovering bumble bees
aching for her honey
(or pollen or whatever
it is that churn up our hormones
and makes us act out our stupidity
which we try so desperately to hide,
we unable to survive
– as U2 once sang –
with our without her,
how we left this happened
( or did we fit a profile,
reacting as expected,
even if she is terrified
by what it is let loose?)
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