he plied me with tea and honey
like the night we were on skype, he told me bed time stories and had my little brother mix me tea with extra valarian root and too much honey to notice. . . like the night he promised me he'd be there in the morning but was so far gone when the sun came up that even ravens could no longer reach his ears. . . like the night with card tricks and him calling me a queen just to strip me of my power and run away with my jewels. That liar. That thief. He was always aching for a moment of honesty, but he didn't have it in himself to return the favor.
