I lost my pomegranate passion, 
when I found my stained lips. 

Standing naked under the rain, 
Is too whole to satisfy.  

I ache to tear myself open
and hide in the cracks. 

I lost my pomegranate passion, 
When I learned about progress. 
When I learned more efficient ways to dismember the fruit. 
When I learned the word for petrichor. 

What’s inside the sky?
I have already dug through the dirt, 
but my pomegranate seeds were nowhere to be found.