bury's bees

Hello have some Patater before I must do homework :(

Two years ago, Kent Parson would probably have given Alexei Mashkov a handjob under dinner table at that fancy ass restaurant, if Mashkov hadn’t been holding his left hand over the table like a dork the entire time. When he came on to Alexei at the bar the other night, he was legitimately expecting a night of wild Russian sex (he didn’t know what that entailed exactly, but boy, was he hoping to find out). He was, however, not expecting Alexei “Call me Tater” to light up, punch in his phone number, and invite him out to dinner at a respectable location. He was not expecting the walk in the park afterwards, or Tater’s embarrassed, handsome laugh when they talked about everything from Kit Purrson to Tater’s grandmother. He was not expecting to be kissed under the lamplight like some lovestruck woman (or actually asked to be kissed, for that matter) in a black and white film, or to be kissed goodnight and left to his own devices at the door of his apartment.

(This has almost never happened in Kent’s dating history, so he didn’t what to do with himself for the rest of the night. He ended up watching three episodes of Parks and Rec while finishing the rest of the Rocky Road in the fridge.)

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In another universe
Where revolving doors open backwards
And butterflies are never mistaken as moths,
I kissed you on the edge of a cliff
And neither of us fell off.

In another universe
Where trees sing songs about highways
And bees bury secrets,
I wrapped an eyelash in lilies
and you said you’d forever keep it.

In another universe
With purple seas and lemon skies,
Not enough questions and opaque eyes,
I brought you soul in plastic bags
Speaking love in disguise.

In another universe
Where ceilings hold parties
And I don’t know your name,
We passed each other on the street
And both looked back the same.

In another universe
Where people ate flowers
And tiny dinosaurs ran banks,
We stared at the sky,
Our white speckled black fish tank.

I held your hand
And my heart did a dance,
You told me to jump
And we slipped in romance.

In every universe not known to us
But all just as wide,
I opened my heart to you
And placed you inside.

—  “Well Versed Multiverse” by Niall Donnelly
The Ones Who Notice (a poem)

The Ones Who Notice

Nobody ever thinks
to bury the bee
we leave it
on the sidewalk or chair
assuming someone else
will take care of it
and thus a little death
is acceptable
and if it had a sting
or a fin while it was alive
that could have hurt us
we feel less about its passing
than a cinder
though even something
smoldering and tiny
can rage into a fire
unless it is smothered in dirt
by the conscientious
the safe-minded
the ones who notice
winged shells
withering at their feet
night and day.