Pomegranate.

You are to me a pomegranate 
You in one hand a knife in my other

I want so badly to know you
But I am terrified of the mess
that lays beneath your skin

I've eaten you before
I've eaten many of you

But now most of what remains
are dirtied shirts
and stained clothes 

How do I know you will last?
How do I know you will last?

I hold the knife 
Not knowing what to do
So I stab, deep into the flesh
but not yours mine

Because how can I know what to look for
how can i know what i need
when I haven't peeled back my skin 
and looked within

I haven't cracked open my chest to see my heart beating
how do i know what it beats for
does yours beat as mine? 

Does it go fast then slow then not at all at others
does it hurt?
does it scare you at times?
my heart does. 
so before i get to know you
i want to cut into myself 
because then our stains can dirty my shirt together,
and they will be one
painting a beautiful picture on my chest