Honey Her Up and Shhhh

You were gold filigreed words
until a hand turned the cover
and
eyes internalized more.

That teenage girl was a brown paper bag
Personally chained
in a library seat avoiding laughter
from a place no one exhaled out of

Above the skylight twisted
into glass sheets tangoing down

as she spirals close to his pounding "thigh"
in a vision only a sexy woman could accomplish

This teenage girl keeps reading
the same stories told in different ways

Alternating between homes
on the cusp of oblivious child
to slacker adult

Tiptoes towards dreams that seem caked in selfish
But who is she?

A black hole in a deeper bag
Is it too much to recycle her
because it is easy to fill it up
and break apart with a loud sound
inside stark room that nobody is in

because no one reads those books
Covers are the best part.

The honey bee never buzzes around a flowers' roots...