To be young and in love; Ah the feel!
Makes you glow from the inside, helps you heal

THIS. This is what the mainstream media has said
I’m not naive. I never let it get to my head

There I was; a happy little bee; buzzing at life
Perfectly content with me, myself and I
And one day, a ‘HI’ popped up that changed my life
Little did I know, that ‘HI’ would leave this bee mesmerized

The bee was taken aback when the ‘HI’ came from a moth
“My nature designed nemesis; what do you want?”
“Why you afraid, beautiful? All I want is your love and honey broth”, said the moth
These words to an innocent bee left her stunned

The first sting the little bee felt were the words of love
Sweeter than honey and purer than a dove

No, this sting wasn’t that of pain
It was a feeling she never felt before
Felt like electricity buzzing through her veins
Stinging more each time she saw the moth at the door

Days turned to months and words turned to essay
The butterflies seemed to become new tenants accompanying the moth
One occupied the little belly and the other the heart’s bay
Never once did the little bee question the love’s auth

As the fog of new love drifted,
The bee’s recent selective listening lifted
She heard things she didn’t before
Was her moth not her twin flame? She wasn’t sure

Then came the second sting; the sting of clarity
No, this sting wasn’t that of pain
It came from a place of unfamiliarity
Felt like a hurricane, although one the heart could sustain

The bee could now see what the moth meant
“Partying all night, every day with his friends”
Loosely translated to drinking every night to the addict’s content
A fun game of cards; when questioned; revealed a gambler’s intents

But the bee was forgiving for she believed in the moth’s words of defends
“I do it when I miss you, I do it when you’re stuck in my head”
If only she listened to the queen bee and her friends
The colony wouldn’t have had to see her heart bleeding red

Then came the dreadful day; one that painted her sky grey
A message on the moth’s phone left her heart in disarray
Infidelity, Ah you fickle friend
I’m sorry I had to feel the sting you sent

That was the bee’s third sting
No, this sting wasn’t that of pain
It was far much worse for it left her with a broken wing
So much hurt; like a window pane through the belly butterflies’ brains

She questioned everything around her
So many scenes replayed but all a hazy blur
A million ‘What if’s’ ran through her brain
So much so she could feel her head sucked down an emotional drain

The worst thing the little bee did was question her worth
Why didn’t she understand she wasn’t the reason for her relationship’s stillbirth?
She didn’t become any less beautiful because he stopped calling her that
But that didn’t stop her confidence from being chipped away at.

She saw her sky change so many colors in a quarter
The happy blue sky to the lustful pink order
The clear skies of clarity to the red stains of heartache
Finally ending in grey skies which keep her awake

Now what does the little bee do?
When she’s still in love with you?
The moth walked away
Not because the bee couldn’t rather he didn’t want to stay

The irony of life is that the bee has the stingers
Yet she feels the stings
She teased the concept of love and it caught her hook line and zinger!

The fourth sting she feels is now as she writes this
No, this sting isn’t that of pain
Rather the opposite, as she tries to scrub away the bloodstains; grain by grain

Only time will tell
If the little bee will be able to fly again
That one day she won’t just be able to fly but reign
I hope now there’s someone waiting for me
A perfect sunflower will one day fall in love with this bee

BUT then again only time will tell.