Sense of pride
Momentary joy
Fleeting high

Tie me down tighter
Silk-spun webs fog up the glass
Hours not wasted

Nuh-uh, baby,
I don’t wanna see that
You creepin’ up behind me
Like a slinky-dinky

Your chilled mosaic
Cool tincture, a moistened cheek

Dirty windows
Lust unchecked
Feel the morning
Heated breath

Please give up on me
Worthy subjects need your eyes
To inspire hope

Run races with scissors.
Take risks —
Not prisoners.

Something stolen
Stays inside me
My smile is sticky
It never tells all

Their pearls drop

Chaste hypocrisy
Bridal veils tell false-lash tales
Blood beneath your nails

Otherwise known as…

Make frequent stops
At floor levels

Squeezed through smarting gibes:
Lime juice; add tabasco sauce
To marinate wounds

I came close enough
To lick Mic’s head,
But shied away from
The dreaded feedback…

Resentful capriciousness
Nearly rests
As martyred saints
Into statuesque

I held you too tight
Too long
Dreaming of you
I lost myself

Whimsy merges with melancholy to evoke the spectrum of conflicting emotions, as explored through Bee Queen’s artworks: dark-themed tableaux reflecting glimmers of love-light through a painted lens of hope.

Chocolate in bed
Sensual indulgences
Melting on my tongue

Cushion for pushin’
Can’t keep big mitts to yourself
Take me by handfuls

Smoke-tarred charred feathers
Fingers stained with nicotine
Cigarillo’s ash

Businessman mistakes
Personal monopolies
For oligarchies

Slightly pause

Before sinking it in
Slipping the tip into
To skin

He lets you know
When to shut up
And just start singing.
You lost your nascent wings;
Zemblanity’s still stinging.

Vagaries that bind
Don’t you know the formula?
Give it time — you’ll learn.

I won’t wait on you
Hand and foot;
I’ll leave that to another gal
Who’s “just misunderstood.”

Dignity robber
Crossed her off his bucket list
Panoramic view