(no subject)
I feel like crying right now, but cannot justify doing so.
The pomegranate is a deep red, a prettier color than blood because it also feels warm with its varying display of light whites and deep purple. It is a heart, of p<3m. I love pom.
So I take a knife, the longest biggest one I have that isn't my cleaver and pop the blade into its stomach sideways. I push it down, feeling the seeds inside split and the juice spilling down the sides of the knives to over the edges of the plate. I place the plate on the floor and push the knife down all the way. There is a mess, and then there were two halves. Blood is everywhere.
The seeds of the pomegranate are like ruby gems resting on a white silk sheet. So perfect, dangling like earrings. So seductive but yet so natural and pure. It's so fragile, hiding in its perfection. Treasure cavern after treasure cavern, hidden in its perfect geometry. And when pried open, it falls like jewels in your plate.
And the scent of rain fills the room, like those nights I stayed awake with my mom in the 3-season porch facing the pond in our backyard watching the lightning dance in a thunderstorm. The rain would hit the window panes creating all the possible musical combinations nature could offer, knowing we'd like the majority of what we create with all the given melodies.
And the flavor of pomegranate seeds is like rain-drops sweet and crisp reminding me of my existence in this world.
The pomegranate is a deep red, a prettier color than blood because it also feels warm with its varying display of light whites and deep purple. It is a heart, of p<3m. I love pom.
So I take a knife, the longest biggest one I have that isn't my cleaver and pop the blade into its stomach sideways. I push it down, feeling the seeds inside split and the juice spilling down the sides of the knives to over the edges of the plate. I place the plate on the floor and push the knife down all the way. There is a mess, and then there were two halves. Blood is everywhere.
The seeds of the pomegranate are like ruby gems resting on a white silk sheet. So perfect, dangling like earrings. So seductive but yet so natural and pure. It's so fragile, hiding in its perfection. Treasure cavern after treasure cavern, hidden in its perfect geometry. And when pried open, it falls like jewels in your plate.
And the scent of rain fills the room, like those nights I stayed awake with my mom in the 3-season porch facing the pond in our backyard watching the lightning dance in a thunderstorm. The rain would hit the window panes creating all the possible musical combinations nature could offer, knowing we'd like the majority of what we create with all the given melodies.
And the flavor of pomegranate seeds is like rain-drops sweet and crisp reminding me of my existence in this world.