I would peel pomegranates for you—

Not just slice them open, but gently with my fingers stained red— I would learn its anatomy, the way they bruise and break if held too harshly, the way they hold memories in every seed.

I would sit at the table, a bowl between us as I unraveled the fruit slowly— almost reverently.

I’d gather the delicate pieces and offer them to you like little treasures, letting the juice spill— dark and intoxicating.

And in the simple act, I’d tell you everything— talk to you about the world and nothing at all, that I chose you, I see you.

“I would peel pomegranates for you”

I’d say giggling as I pop a seed in my mouth.

- Hareem Ismail

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