" Imagine somewhere there is a poem that tastes like our goodbye felt.
Biting down on foil, swallowing an unexpected mouthful of ocean water.
Too much of a good thing: cotton candy, soda pop, licking chocolate icing from the jar.
Acidic throat. A stomach ache.
I have given up trying to write it. I don’t need to hold onto it anymore "

― Trista Mateer , Honeybee