Cry as the horizontal bee
rings in its hive.
Your days are done and yet
summer won’t seep from your bones…
won’t breathe its honeyed farewell.
The primitive scepter
remains in your hands.
*
-by The Unknown Friend
barnsburntdownnow likes this
dazzlingdianavera reblogged this from the-unknown-friend
dazzlingdianavera likes this
meditationsonisolde likes this
homo--superior likes this
the-unknown-friend posted this