Seed by Seed, I Bleed, The Pomagranate

By Sam Exner

I bleed when I’m torn apart,

I bleed even when sliced,

My insides are red, full of that

Sweet elixir of life, you claim I have.

Even with that gentle touch, picking me seed by seed,

I still may bleed, for you I don’t mind.

Cut me deeply, have my juice staining your hands,

Pluck, and pluck, tear my insides apart,

For the blood-filled juices, my test of love

My elixir of life, my love, don’t mind the mess,

Peel back my skin, slowly, don’t let me bleed.

Be gentle, be kind to me, for a single slip

I bleed, I explode, please, don’t hurt me.

Each seed, a symbol of a life lived by I,

At least I bleed, I die,

Knowing your thirst for life has been quenched,

Hoping your journey of tearing me, destroying me,

Was it worth the bloody red mess?

My tender flesh, my soft flesh,

Yet you do not care now, you are no longer patient and kind,

Rip, dig and tear, there you go, your ambition now in control,

Red stains on your hand, on the blade used to slice.

I must ask, my love, was it worth the mess?

Worth destroying me?

Does your greed know no bounds?

I forgive you, though, my love,

Even if you were gentle, I’d still bleed.