For my first post for the “JuneJour” challenge (which I alluded to, but did not explicitly state in my previous post), I have decided to break out of my comfort zone and try something new.
A little background: while I love and have been writing poetry since I was a teenager, I always found prose somewhat intimidating. For me, I saw prose as the bigger, badder sibling: more conversational, more words (typically).
So here’s the opportunity! To give prose a chance. We’ll see how it goes, and perhaps I will post more of them in the future! Here goes…
I had you for breakfast that morning. How I downed you straight and thick, the tonic burning the back of my throat as I swallowed you whole. Damn, it’s too early for this, I thought. But I didn’t stop; I knew that I had to finish you off, just as how you had finished me off just a week ago when you smelled like orange and mint and I breathed your incredible fragrance, just inches from my face. I was in desperate need of something refreshing, away from this stifling heat and you gave it to me cold. Those mojitos we had an hour ago did the trick, and now we’re folded like paper cranes on top of thin sheets, and you murmuring syrup kisses down my neck. You stopped, that night and the day after. Saying you couldn’t do this. Saying that you had to leave, a chance that you would not return. Why must you stop? Why must we stop? I thought. I polished off the last of the drink- polishing off the last traces of our memories. Goodbye, good riddance. But still the fire burns.
– The Finicky Cynic