Pomegranate

Pomegranate

I gave my heart to you – a pomegranate in your hands.
I peeled back its hardened exterior to bear my soul.
And you stabbed it.
Pierced it with a blade of your words; the bitter cold
smile on your face as its red juices
spilled out.
My blood is on your hands.
Yet you drink up the sweet nectar to coat your throat with my pain.
You breathe in the delightful fragrance and think of berries
and jam.
I’m dying now.
My heart is nothing more than a snack to you. The silent
popping of seeds in your mouth sound in my empty chest.
Persephone cry for me.
My heart – the forbidden fruit. You spit out the seeds
and ingest my flesh. I stand broken at the altar. A hole in my chest.
The pomegranate on the floor.