It should remember,
The salty sweet fluid I floated in when in the cocoon inside my mother,
The bland nutrition of her milk,
The potion that grew me to strength,
That eased down my throat like silk.
It should remember the first time it felt the chill of an icecream,
The heat of a chilly, the burn of hot tea,
The sour of tamarind from grandma’s garden,
The tangy apple the sleazy uncle got for me when I was 9,
The sweetness of the candy the neighbor slipped into my pocket while his hands slipped deeper then the pocket.
It should remember the taste of savory meat aunt cooked for a family lunch,
The velvet of the cheese cake on my 16th birthday,
The flavor of my first strawberry lipstick,
The effervescence of the soda in my first 60 ml of whiskey.
But what it does remember instead?
It remembers the taste of remorse that seeped through her womb,
The burn in my throat when I suckled the milk out of a regretful woman,
The chill of my first sexual assault dancing on my lips along with the icecream after school,
The heat of the slap for being blamed of stealing tamarind from grandmas garden, I was just 5,
It remembers the taste of the cigarette in the air I gasped for as the uncle muffed my mouth with the apple,
The sour taste the neighbor left in my mind forever in the name of candy.
Above all it remember the taste of passion I kissed out from my lovers tongue,
The sweetness of those words that seeped into my soul through his words,
Words that casted magical zing into the strawberry words that came whispering through the strawberry flavored lipstick that smashed against his kisses,
It remembers the taste of lust when it traced every inch of his skin devouring every bit of flesh on his skeleton,
The choking pungency of his anger, the heat of his love and burn of him walking away,
The taste of blood curdling in my mouth each time I think of unforgotten memories,
The taste of pain each night when I curl into a ball holding myself tasting fear, sadness n turmoil.
My tongue has tasted beyond what I should have tasted.
What bout yours?
- Reine Furtado