Pomegranate

When he bit my lips,

It turned red like a crushed pomegranate seed.

He left bite marks,

Staining my skin like the red fruit's juice.

His strong hands held my breasts like a halved pomegranate;

In his arms I trembled like a sapling thrown out in the storm.

His fingers traced wild patterns,

As if picking the seeds set like rubies inside,

I swooned,

Not wanting it to stop.

And when he left,

All that could be found were red stained clothes and bruised lips,

And a taste as fine as that of the pomegranate that Hades gifted to Persephone.