The taste of raw honey in my mouth. Something I hadn’t tasted before. My expression must have been childlike because you laughed like I was the funniest person on earth. 

“Weird. Bitter,” I commented, shaking it off. But honey has lots of benefits and is good for you, I was informed. I guess you had read it somewhere. 

You would force me, every morning, to endure the taste. And a spoon of raw honey would remind me that this was still raw love. I didn’t realize but one day I was reaching for the jar on my own. That was the moment it hit me. The death of you. 

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