Every Day Blood

A villanelle to prove I’m still alive.

The taste of honey on my lips

Which to the wind is lost for good

Eternally will greet my kiss;

These lips which will remember this

All their words misunderstood…

The taste of honey on my lips

Mixed with blood drips down clenched fists.

There is no name to call… What Druid wood,

Eternally, will greet my kiss?

Drunk on poison, subtle sips,

Of sweet release in plated food…

Like the taste of honey on my lips.

Has ever lived a pain so mixed,

Which races through this aging blood,

Eternally, to greet my kiss?

Dig for days - the silver, sift.

It will not do you any good.

The taste of honey on my lips

Eternally will greet my lips.

-M.Shultz