Poem response to prompt: 12 Flavors
My moods, my feelings for you, change like the pages of a calendar. Each new month is a new me, twelve facets, twelve flavors. I can’t promise that you’ll enjoy them all.
I. Chocolate in January
Perhaps I began sweet and smooth. You can see I’m dark, but it’s only later that you notice that bitter taste on your tongue. Instead, I overwhelm you with a fountain of kisses, moist and decadent. I want you to crave me.
II. February Bananas
Has my silky sweetness turned gooey? But I’m such a versatile ingredient. Hot or cold, I can fill you up. Just peel me open and take everything you find inside.
III. Minty March
Suddenly, I turn icy and cold, but maybe you find this refreshing. I’m a cool, clean treat that invigorates you. I leave your tongue tingling.
IV. Curry in April
By now you know I’m deliciously complex. Some find me warm, but some find it a creeping heat. I’m an exotic flavor, spicing up the ordinary, bringing a new golden brilliance to the bland and banal. Am I good for you?
V. Teriyaki May
Yes, I am exotic. But I’m salty and sweet in equal turns: I’m a sweet syrup dripping over you, no I’m vinegar and tang. Either way, I’m your favorite. Aren’t I?
VI. Hot Sauce in June
Now, I’m flaring, burning, hot. I’m dangerous in June. Red is the color of flame, of warning. But hot is also sexy and intense. Could you love the burn? Do you desire the sting?
VII. Lemons of July
I’m the bright summer sunshine. Maybe the sour bite, the acidic burn is just my warmth moving through you. Or maybe I’m only half the recipe. I need your sweetness to balance me out.
VIII. August is Ginger
I’m rooted in you now. My spice, my warmth, brined or brewed, whether I soothe or snap. Think of me as a medicinal tea, steeped in emotion but mellow inside. I can come on strong and prickly, but know that this is only a phase. It’s almost September anyway.
IX. A Maple Syrup September
I’ve mellowed back into that sticky sweetness, but now I feel familiar. I’m warm and sweet and saccharine. I’m a wood-burning fire against the encroaching cold. I cover you like a blanket and seep into your core. I want to be a part of you.
X. Garlic in October
Suddenly, I’m pushing you away. Even I’m not sure why. It’s like the opposite of pheromones. My every breath makes you shrink away, vanishing like a vampire into the night. My sweetness is gone. I’m sharp and dry. I guess that’s not to your taste.
XI. Pumpkin November
Once again, I’m sweet as pie. Not sickly sweet this time, but comforting. Carve me out and put your light inside. This isn’t just a whim. This is a fall.
XII. Peanut Butter in December
I’m nutty. That’s just a fact. I’m not for everyone. Some days I’m smooth, but some days I’m not. I think we go together. Sandwiched between our crusty exteriors, we find our hearts a swirl of the sticky, messy, sweet gel of feelings that bind me to you, you to me.
I know I’m not consistent. I change more often than the seasons. I may not always taste the same, but I hope I’m still your favorite flavor.