Sweet and Sour
Excited hands
wrecked
the small
neatly wrapped
red package
with a silver bow
then
discovered
the blue box
within—
a gift of
Noxema
for
a
tween.
The obnoxiously
loud
astringent
wiped
away
fragile
confidence
leaving
a
squeaky
clean
zero
esteem.
8 thoughts on "Sweet and Sour"
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Wow. That packed a serious punch. I love the irony of something that’s supposed to be used for healing causing real pain. Hope the poem was healing for you
Thanks, Larry. You know it was unbearable pain when it is still so fresh–just like being twelve again. And yes, I write it as a memory now, and still love my aunt!
so good…
noxema sounds noxious
Thanks, Jim. You’re right! Strong and menacing!
I can still smell it.
That is one smell one can never forget! The burn, too!
I can smell it too.
I’ve enjoyed reading your June offerings.
You are so kind and encouraging, Melva Sue! Thank you for taking time to read and comment. I am a budding poet in my forties and appreciate when someone else can appreciate my perspective in words. 🙂