Queen Bee

I heard her persistent buzzing long before I ever fell in love with the idea of welcoming her sting.
I still haven't welcomed it yet, but I feel myself finding solace in the constant hum of her buzz.
It's warm there.
I'm numb there.
As she flies around my head, the black eyes that once terrified me, have now begun to make me swoon. I'm so completely aware of the horror that lies within that darkness. Though, as of late, the field in which I grow my fucks is barren& I'm like a love sick pup. I think of her always. Every day. Each solitary second now belongs to my queen. 
I'm smarter than this. I'm stronger than this... But..

What if I'm not stronger than her. I love her already. Without indulging in her sting. Without smiling the moment she penetrates my skin and releases her venom. I've not even done it once, but here I am, hooked on her inviting scent.
She is my queen bee.
And I am her lowly servant. 
Forever roaming inside the hive where I know I don't belong.