The Stages of Love: Discovery – By Kaysie-Ann Barrows

When we first met, you were all lacquered pink.

A mysterious fruit on the market stall,

I had no intention of buying.

But you were engulfed in green flames,

That curved around your edges so smoothly,

That burnt and made you ripe with interest.

I dared to cup you in my hands,

Thinking the flame was the whole of you,

It was not.

Now the skin starts to feel familiar,

And I can see the bruises from careless travels,

The faint splits from where the sun may have been too much.

But inside, you’re still speckled light,

With white flesh that’s freckled with black seeds.

You have a sweetness that always surprises me,

But also plainness I never expect.

Not the firework burst I so happily dreamt of,

It was something slower and quieter,

Like the rain trying to learn my window’s language.

I am finding the small stones of you.

The way you close the door,

Like you’re trying to lock out the entire world.

Yet there’s also the way you pour your tea without looking,

The way you trust my cup to catch what you give.

I’m learning the taste of you,

Savouring your contradictions.

How the strange can mellow into the familiar,

And how the familiar can still surprise me.