Honey Jar

What does love taste like?

Warm and smooth honey, 

prisoned in that glassy jar --
a fragile armor built with stubborn pureness.
Honey glittering under spring radiance

placed high on a dusty shelf -- 

a height where my short and clumsy arm could not reach.

I climbed on riddles as ladders,
piled up confusion as boxes.

Till,

there was only one inch 

between my fingers and the honey jar.

Yet,

its expected warmth 

was rather chilly.

Why?

Suddenly,
Doubt crushed the whole hill with its heavy fist

Riddles and flowery word games 

wrecked.

Confusion 

crashed.

I 

fell.

Glass 

shattered.

Truth spilled.

Lying in a pond of warmth and smoothness,
I could not tell if it was my blood or the honey.

Hurt.
But I smiled in tears.
At least chilly armor was shattered,

revealing the smooth and warm honey within --

love.

Reviews

[Laz K.]

One goes through thorns to get the rose, or bee stings to get the honey. There's always a price to pay, and nothing is as costly as love. But isn't it worth it?