citrus heart

i hate peeling oranges—

it’s like love

with its tough skin

that stains beneath my nails

juice flowing down my arms—

unapologetic

oil spraying and stinging

the corners of my eyes

i avoid peeling oranges—

i’d rather not be drenched

in acidic juice

decorated in pulp so delicate

i dare not burst

…

i said

for you

i would go through anything

stained nails

orange-juice-hands

red eyes

and all

so for you

i would peel every orange in the world

and place them onto your open palms

they will drip with unfiltered care

i’ll say

“i know it’s messy but

it’s all i have”

you’ll smile back at me

this orange

it looks so much like you

eyes shining

lips forming words of wondrous love

hands that’ll grow to fit mine

one day

…

your walls—orange peels—

which took so long to break

yet i still don’t know

if i’ve broken them all

white stringy albedo that

—like your love

runs on and on and—

each intricate piece of pulp all those details i love

and i wonder—

will my hands always be messy with love?

well

if you are the love

if you are the orange then maybe

i was born with a citrus heart

Genevieve Seow believes in taking risks and fruits. Her writing is often laden with fruits. One could say she has a fruit salad soul.