Napowrimo 28

This is in response to the backwards story. Whenever I'm at a loss for words, I write about Eve. She never fails to inspire me. Here's her story, backwards. It might be interesting to play with this further.

Returning to Eden

She never looked back.

She regretted nothing,

knew it had to end this way

as her bare feet stepped from carpet grass

to brambles. She felt pleasure blossom

in her heart as it fluttered.

Her lips stained with mauve,

She licked them clean.

Juice dribbled from mouth to chin,

Down her chest, marking her beautiful

To herself. She brought the fruit

To her lips, a plum, a pomegranate,

An apple, a pear, the details

Depend on who’s doing the telling,

But always it was juicy, always

It was sweet, always it was red

Red, the color of fire and flame,

Desire. She plucked it from the tree

In a single tug. It fit perfectly

In her palm, designed for her.

The color red flashed against the green,

So much green, so little of anything else.

She could smell the ripened flesh,

About to fester underneath

All that perfect sunshine.

She felt a slithering across her feet,

A whisper in her ear, a hiss

In her heart. She didn’t know

Her own face from his, her own name

From his, her own body from his.

She was the darkness to his light,

The silence to his noise,

The night to his day.

She was made to be small,

To obey, to nod her head,

Her lips made to be sealed

Like an envelope, addressed

To him. She was born into a world,

Forged from a rib of someone else,

Determined to define herself

In terms of her own body,

Her own flesh, her own mind.

At first, she was an afterthought.