honey

perhaps he likes the way you like him
your honey stream of tasteful wits
the words that burn his lonely lips
of how you really want to know him
of how you're still around
he's got a lot of evidence
that what you say is meant for real
perhaps the whiskey laughs still echo
when he's alone and unfulfilled
or maybe, streams of words forgotten,
kisses fade into the night
and both of you are passing, jaded,
waiting till your breaths are stilled