Dearest,

The secrets deep inside of me have grown larger; threatening to break my ribs. "They cannot break my ribs," I think, "for my ribs are made of honey." The buildup of honey-blood flowing from my honeycomb-heart made secret-resistant ribs, so I could carry all my secrets inside. The soul who can delve deep into the honey-soaked core of my being and retrive my honey-soaked secrets has not crossed my path yet. I pray this soul will find me soon, for I do not have a spine made of honey.