It happened one September day
I stole a bag of jellybeans
threaded them onto a necklace
sniffed each flavour … just for fun.
My counsellor said if you were a jellybean, what flavour
would you be?
I thought of daisies, buttercups, bluebells, borage—a wildflower garden
in your irises
hues like jellybeans blending bending to your will—
Me! I replied me flavour.
Because it's me you devour when I dream.
I recalled some sorry guy who rambled on about his life of tattered threads
He never called.
They never did.
I recalled how I fidgeted and pulled my too-short skirt to hide
my too-short legs
in that corner spot at every party
in the draughty seat at every bar
where I feigned nonchalance,
minted laughter from biology,
forged goblets from silver candy wrappers,
watched you and others
swap ice-cubes … mouth to mouth
melt into each other, … a body of bodies. Rainbows
formed from my neon sun-head and damned tears.
My future is my history
already lived … when I tasted those jellybeans
lolled them around my tongue
let them tingle
where I wanted you.
What happens now?
When you meddle with time
you mess with memory.
I wanted to remember having you, having us wrapped
in salty blankets,
warbling songs from 80s, 90s,
sharing sticky jellybeans.
* * * * *
About the Creator
Inhaling life, exhaling stories, poetry, prose, flash or fusions. An imperfect perfectionist who writes and recycles words. I write because I love how it feels to make ink patterns & form words, like pictures, on a page.
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Compelling and original writing
Creative use of language & vocab
Niche topic & fresh perspectives
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