Pomegranate

Lycorises litter our lawn with laughable languish.

Your hair bursts with these reminders as its shade turn ever-youthful. 

We are fated to be apart, but my body stays attached to you.

I’m a jealous man. 

I must know your eyes never wander,

and in the end, you will always return to me.

The Earth would burn, forced to drought or flood

if you stayed a moment too long. 

For necessity, not love, I take you back with me

at least that’s what I tell myself.

The seeds of my labor will never leave you,

and so I will never leave you.

Despite how much you want, and continue, to leave me.

• jealousy
• love
• poem
• poetry