Written by Taylor Calonzo

Edited by Cato

As you stood before the stove

that summer evening in June,

a wooden spoon in your right hand

and a cup of jasmine tea in your left,

incessantly stirring a pot of aromatic stew,

I fell in love.

At once, a deluge of warmth and bliss overcame me,

inundating the hollow vacancy of my ribcage and

washing away the sorrow that had once dwelled.

The delightful scent of rosemary and thyme was enough

to make me forget the carnage just outside the window.

Gone were the dreadful what if’s

that had plagued the tip of my tongue for so long,

replaced instead with the all-encompassing ecstasy of the moment.

Suddenly the world was in blazing color.

The striking violet and orange hues of the sky were nothing

compared to the welcoming brown of your irises.

I’d once imagined love tasted like chocolate-covered strawberries:

tart and cloying, bordering on sickening,

an assault of the senses.

You couldn’t eat more than two without

feeling heavy as a barrel of sugar.

Now I know it tastes like a bowl of steaming soup,

a freshly baked loaf of bread, like warmth, comfort—

utterly delicious.

Illustration by Vivi Hashiguchi
Instagram: @vivihashiguchi

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s