This is me now, coming forth from the clouds.  Recharging in silence, fully-powered I follow sounds.  Taking on a new form - had to once I outgrew the space allowed.  I've truly bloomed since my heart was locked in the dark and hostile underground.
Hades once hated me but never tried to vanquish me.  He tried to force nightmares on his subjects that I would replace with sweet dreams.  His ears would steam from not understanding.  I found the key, and my heart was released. I broke free and floated away with Persephone, happily.  Be wary of intentions behind the pomegranate seeds.  Listen to your heart, that beat lead me to where I needed to be.  True story.
Happy Eleven11

full moon, nervous edge, sweat beads,
my lungs are bruised and beaten,
and my heart is made of bone.
why, pomegranates bleed,
sigh and remain uneaten,
calcify or rot alone.

i saw persephone cry
and all the angels alight,
stark and sad in burning flame.
a soft weeping right nearby,
holy fires of the night,
and i swear i heard my name.

possession requires a host,
but i couldn't catch my breath
stumbling through the graveyard.
i don't believe in ghosts,
but the awesome fear of death
caught me lonely and off guard.

i will try to describe it:
in the face of this feeling,
your guts are on the table,
your insides exposed, moonlit,
mine were cold and revealing,
dead, skeletal, and mangled.

as surely as winter
loosens it's icy grip
with one last kiss
upon my throat,
i know spring
will soon return
to gently hold me
in her warm embrace
as the earth
calls me back home.

Our love was crafted from heavenly bodies.
Tow trucks, skyscrapers, and chicken farms separated us.
But destiny, fate, and god came together
And gave these three damsels a gift.
Wrapped in blonde bows,
And dry throaty laughs.
We are one of the greatest platonic affairs.

All of us were given to Hades from our mothers;
Their tears fell on the maps they gave us.

As the gods weep, we laugh
At how we found each other in the mess that surrounds us.
All has aligned.
Nothing is perfect.
But nothing truly beautiful
Was born from perfection.
We are our sweaty foreheads,
Large appetites,
Thirst for a knowing,
And a hunger for a longing.
We are a connection
Conceived from something holy and numinous.

i want to unravel you
pick apart your bones
devour you so hungrily,
you'll stain my sheets
and leave me aching.

I adore the crispness of an apple,
Thin, breakable skin
Encasing **** flesh,
Hiding danger in small doses.
Its dewy, red skin,
Could ****** anyone -
From Eve to Snow-White.
A bite and you're done for.
It's a dangerous fruit
To get from a stranger.
A witch in disguise,
An old lady,
Or God.

But you?
You didn't offer me apples.
You offered a single pomegranate,
Hard to crack open,
But hides dozens of nectar-filled seeds.
A single one won't do the trick,
So why not have some?
Just a little.

You?
You opened it,
Wide and inviting,
And watched me get
Addicted to the unsuspected,
To the soft and juicy insides.

You?
You watched me count the seeds,
Almost obsessing over
The delicateness of each one.
Blessing you,
Praising you,
Before biting into one seed,
Or two,
Or a dozen,
Or ten thousand.

And I?
I followed the pomegranate's many, many seeds
Feeding and feasting
Right from your hands.
Finding pleasure in the poison,
Innocently falling captive,
Taking the bait,
As you march me straight to hell.

It was too late when I realized,
Apples are for witches,
Pomegranates are for worse.