Day 329/365

Prompt: aversion flame


I have an aversion
to Yankee candles.
My boyfriend
for endless years
of our relationship
let them in our house
daily, weekly, monthly, yearly.
Not a moment passed in our home
there wasn't some jar burning
somewhere in the house,
usually more than one.
Candles with names like
Marvelous Melon
or Briney Deep
or Velvet Sunshine
flamed their ridiculous aromas
through the kitchen,
dining room,
den,
bathroom,
up the stairs,
down the hall,
into the bedroom.
Something called Aztec Dreams
irritated my sinuses
to the point of anaphylaxis
and left me flailing on the floor.
The more humbly named Hazelnut Coffee
left me paranoid,
clawing at my sides,
and twitching like an elderly woman
without her Parkinson's meds.
I lived with the undone dishes,
the soiled tighty whiteys,
the empty Silk container,
endless hours of Lifetime,
Kelly Clarkson CDs,
Twilight novels,
bare toilet paper rolls,
and refrains of "It's late,"
"I'm beat,"
and "Just let me fall asleep on your shoulder."
But a candle called Ambivalent Furlough?
That was quite enough.


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