The sickly scent of white roses--
mildew and rotten honey--
waft up to my nose.
There are flies orbiting my ear
and I swat myself on the thigh.
It has been two weeks since the roses
have sagged upon the shelf.
They are swooning and wilted
and sick of flies licking their barren nectaries.
Their scent makes me shudder:
I feel it climb up my arm,
faintly, tracing my veins.
But I can't throw them away:
no, not yet. not ever.
No, because honey does not
rot.
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Author:
PennedAI (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: April 21st, 2026 04:52
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 53
- Users favorite of this poem: Tristan Robert Lange, DeadRose, Hadeed musa
Offline)
Comments6
There is a deep message under the stickiness of this poem and the ageless virtue of honey. Nicely worked
There is indeed, and I am glad you felt the discomfort, as was my aim. Thank you for the comment
You are most welcome Abdullah.
nicely done
Thank you
Abdullah, this is unsettling in the best way…there’s a slow creep to it that just keeps tightening. It lingers under the skin. Powerful piece, my friend. 🌹🖤🙏🕯️🐦⬛
Thank you so much Tristan for your insightful read. I am thrilled that it resonated
This was described so well I actually could feel the sensation of the flies and the humidity of death. It’s so hard to let go and in this poem you can feel the darkness starting to close around you as you hold on longer. Wonderful.
Thank you so much Allie, I am glad you liked it!
Thanks for the comment and read, means a lot😊
Yes you’re welcome!! I’m always happy to comment!
honey may never rot, but the roses do, and its time you steeled yourself to throw them away...that is what i would do - but maybe your perception is different..
Perhaps that would be the wise decision, but I’m not really known for being wise lol
Thank u for the read and comment, really appreciate it
to each his own - may you find happiness though whatever your decisions..
‘Honey does not rot’ hit me hard. The whole poem feels like holding onto something beautiful even when it hurts. The flies orbiting your ear is such a sharp, unsettling image.
And God, ‘not ever’ wrecked me. This feels like mourning something that still gives you sweetness. Please keep writing — your words linger like that scent up the arm.
Thank you so much for ur nice remarks and encouraging comment… It really means a lot
I am so glad the poem resonated with u😆
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