honey

it's an innocent thing

until

until it becomes something more

until it becomes a word to describe someone

he reminds me of honey

tanned and innocent

something is so wrong about me calling him that though

it's a syrupy double sided sword

i mean it as something sweet, and a word for the color of his skin

but it ends up sounding sensual and contrasting to the true emotion that lies underneath

the true emotion is when he smiles and the freckles on his plump cheeks bunch up

it's sweet and cute and meaningless

it expresses everything and nothing at the same time

and i love it

and i love him

he loves me too

but i'm not exactly sure why

i'm not beautiful

that's what matters right?

or is it, that isn't what matters

he loves me

he loves me

he loves me

i watch him

he doesn't care, he just shifts a little watching the endless flickering of the television set

his long black eyelashes are falling as the sounds of dreamy laughter lull him

i'll sit there and watch him sleep for a while before get him to come up to bed

our little boy is asleep already and I feel guilty for not tucking him in

but i know that the man who reminds me of honey already has

and i watch a bit longer till his droopy, sleepy eyes come to a close and wistful snoring is heard

i turn off the TV and curl up next to him, making sure he won't wake up

he doesn't, just shifts a little and kinda smiles

and that's the way it is

that's the way I hope it will always be

just him and i

the honey

and the poor soul that is always wanting more