The sweetness of honey

I slip into the honey-induced coma meant only for me under a pretense of being whole again.
I succumb to the so-called sweet honey that swirls incessantly in my mug turning my hot water into a frothy, yellow mixture.
I cater to the hope that I will be myself in due time, unsure of what that means, sinking whole-heartedly into the smooth honey where I can immerse myself in.

Meant to be the epitome of sweetness, of desirable guiltless pleasure yet fearing any moment that this sweetness will turn into a repulsive bitterness.
Fearing a bitter, gut-wrenching feeling that may clamp down on my insides, wrecking havoc on my emotions, boiling anger within my veins, sheltering sadness behind my eyes at this rapid bitterness.
It ends in serpent-like coils easily dismissed from its plastic origin, which creates a soft beauty in the dregs.
Produced from a family of winged creatures causing stings on innocent victims. Produced from total dictatorship with no sign of anarchy or unrest.

I purposefully fall: lending myself helpless, vulnerable to standing up again, aware of the hovering aches ready to make its descent.
Shaking my head of untended memories that have turned into wild weeds ravaging my mind, taking over my present sanity - I slip into what I can control.
Forgetting what has been done or the consequences that will inevitably arise, I let myself be taken over by the slippery sweetness.
I have already lost the battle of control, the hold I was once so sure I would assert.
My grip loosens, as I slowly unfurl my balled-up fist, temporarily forgetting the pained mistakes and the boxed-in hurt.
My thoughts blur, as I let suppressed laughter wash me over. Laughter, which I thought I would never be able to sound, especially in your so-I-thought sweet presence.
My arms intertwine with what I have once lost and may never have back again, realizing the finality of my decisions.
As I pour the honey-drenched water into the sink, I am willing to never see let myself fall within the slippery sweet grasp of my faults, of my unfulfilled beginnings, of my questionable future with your so-I-thought sweet presence.