What Remains in the Bottle
I do not wait
For an apology
To unfurl from his lips
He is not sorry
For the bile words
That he vomits upon me
Again again and again
I ask him not to disrespect
Black women with words
That slice like the
Honeybee’s barbed blades stinger ripping the skin
What a bittersweet oxymoron
Friendship once built upon thick, golden, smooth honey
Now destroyed by the burning pain of his venom
I remove the stinger
Bottle the honey
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Great metaphor of a friend’s betrayal.