When it tastes icy from the chill of winter
snow on Blue Ridge mountains…there’s nothing
else like that. Crisp and sweet,
in a way [difficult
to put your finger on].
It would have been nice
if our relationship had been
like that. [Sweet,
But we weren’t,
you know, we were more
complicated, like sex
on the beach or whiskey on ice,
which sounds simple enough
but washes down with a bite that makes you forget
[why] you chose it in the first place.
Until you get used
to the burn in the back
of your throat, start thinking
[maybe it warms you].
Or maybe we were just
like city water, treated
water…the kind that was once brackish
but, in an attempt to emulate the pure freshness
of a quiet stream, has been pumped so full
that the adding
makes it hard, and flat.
Alright loves, I’ve got a question: this is the second draft and I’m questioning whether we even need that last stanza. I like the transition back to water, the repetition of the original idea. But ending on the second to last stanza might be a bit stronger. Or maybe it just needs some more revising. Anyway, any thoughts are appreciated!
Love from London!