Your secrets
are the color of pomegranates -
bright, maroon and permanent.
They stain my fingers for weeks
and have been mistaken as scars
so often,
that they have become them.
I have decided
that I will learn to paint,
amd I will paint canvases
of spectacular buildings
and pomegranate seeds dripping into puddles like rain.
Rain, rain, rain,
I will paint rain
and the ocean that is between us
and it will resemble the color of blood.
The people
up in planes
will look down upon this pomegranate ocean
and they will know
deep inside their veins,
that I have pulsed the ocean for you
and these bright myths
will ultimately kill us.
