honeybee

plenty of elusive dreams lately: the kind that refuse my memory but leave their intentions lumped in my morning throat. i could be crying each night in my slumber, but i have no way of knowing that. what i do know about this nocturnal molester is his name: love. he calls me unable, he calls me unworthy, he calls me in my weakest moments and wrings them all from my memory like a wet rag. out they flow with their wedding vows and their love children and their green green grass. here they come with old scents intact, handwriting samples and bone structure to avoid all confusion. here they come like clumsy marionettes all over my bed sheets, spouting pleas and promises from their unhinged jaws. my memorial attachment gives new meaning to 'hanging by a thread'. even if i knew how to cut them free, i'm afraid i could not bear to be the cause of their precious little limbs crumbling on a strange ground under the weight of forgetting. besides, i have grown fond of the shadows they cast on the walls of my girlhood when i make them dance to the beat of what was.