I’m telling the bees about you
Though you aren’t dead, you’re dead enough
They hum and buzz in response as I tell them how you ended things
They understand how it stings and how it will stick and linger like honey on unwashed hands
They remind me of the bright flowers and warm sunshine that are still here to provide for us
They murmur of colors I cannot see but that are there- much like the benefits of this
I tell them and tell them, weeping over my bruised heart and ego, and tell them some more
They tell me this too shall pass.
They tell me to stay sweet but defend when necessary.
They tell me that the world is much larger than it feels right now and that there is beauty in everything.
I told the bees about you as people have done for centuries when someone dies-
You haven’t died, but you’re dead to me and the bees.