#and no one else in the house touches the pomegranates because they're mine. mom buys them specifically because I love them

[bookwyrminspiration]

i am standing at the kitchen counter deseeding a pomegranate (my favorite fruit) and I am carefully going through every seed (because I forgot about it) (because it's started to turn) and they are dull red instead of vibrant and taut (it's started to turn). I discard almost half the pomegranate (my favorite fruit) seeds because they're mushy (I forgot about it). and I remember how every day I saw the pomegranate on the counter (I remember things when I see them) and thought that I should deseed it (because it would start to turn) and then I'd turn away and I'd forget (because I couldn't see it) (because I didn't want to remember that I was forgetting). and now all these seeds (mushy, dull red) are being discarded because I forgot (even though it's my favorite fruit). and I can remember (because I'm seeing it) (because I'm holding it) (because the juice is on my hands) that I forgot it day after day. and I wonder if my distress, the frustration will be enough (so I won't forget it next time). and I know it won't be (because I'm going to turn away when I'm done) (because I won't see it anymore) and that I am going to forget, again, to deseed the pomegranates (my favorite fruit). I will be here again (again). i discard another seed. i am standing at the kitchen counter deseeding a pomegranate