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twelve

red slips down my throat like wine
with too much bouquet; I left flowers
for snow.

sunny days could never compare
to the tartness of your lips,
keeping me dreaming of falling leaves
as I spend these months in misery,
unsmiling; fuck appearances, they all know
I was never the same after winter


but it wouldn't make as good of a story
if I wasn't your captive, if I came by choice
to your arms, tasting your bounty
long before those six seeds


so I spend my new captivity in shade,
the closest thing to your ice embrace

wondering why we didn't lie
and tell them
I'd eaten twelve.

Author notes

Prompt: pomegranate.

Everyone else is probably going to do Persephone, but I love her story, so I wanted to try.

A contest entry

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Comments


  • Oh.My.Juliet
    October 29

    Edit | Reply
    I love the ending! very well penned, thanks and good luck!