This isn't good, I don't think, but it's what first came to mind.

I can’t drink Mountain Dew anymore. Not that it’s a big loss, being that it’s fake citrus and some kind of electric chartreuse you don’t find in nature. But I don’t drink it because it’s his drink. The man who gave me the first kisses I could tell the world about. They tasted like coffee with that stupid soda’s weird aftertaste. He drank so much of it that when I smell it in the mall I think of him. Not because it’s a bad memory but because it takes years off my life. Both the good ones and the bad ones. I can’t take it.

Very visceral, erika, I like it. I don't like him a lot, but I like the piece.

Also? Want to name a band Electric Chartreuse.

Well, it was either that or, you know, sinus green. For once propriety carried the day.

Firstly, I am so glad for the drabbles. They are doing me a world of good. It feels so BIG to write again.

Secondly, here's my new one.

INXS

White background, men in black, big red letters.

INXS

The letters of hope and rejection.

Mom sees him first, walking with a box of shoes. He smiles a timorous smile. Mom smiles a resentful smile. I grin. Ear to ear, to show off the smile I am so proud of. It’s the one feature of me my thirteen year old self likes.

Keep smiling. Be smart. Be pretty. Does he like me? Maybe he’ll take me home. Maybe he’ll buy me something. A leather jacket. Because he’s guilty.

I leave with mom. She grips my hand tighter than usual.

He doesn’t want me.

Oof. Oh honey. That's--that's so painful.

Aw, Empress, but good for you, putting it into words.

It's such a liberating feeling writing those last 4 words.

Not because it’s a bad memory but because it takes years off my life. Both the good ones and the bad ones.

erika, that's so simple and perfect.

I've been reading in here and trying to get the nerve up to write again. I feel like all of whatever talent I ever had has been drained away over the last few years. But mostly I know I'm just lazy.

Man, those were both tum-punches.

erika, that brought back the memory of a guitar player, way back when. I was a smoker in those days (so was he); I smoked menthol, he smoked straight. One day, after a kiss, he said, "How can you smoke those things? It's like smoking cough drops."

Teppy, just so you know, because of the drabble community and the couple or three I've done, I wrote two poems yesterday. I haven't written anything beyond an LJ or posting-board post or a letter for nearly two years.

They're not great poems, they need work, which I will happily do. But I wrote them. So thank you.