Promises and Pomegranates by Sav R. Miller

encounter in the first place.
Touch has a memory.
O say, love, say,
What can I do to kill it and be free?
If anything, his parting words, though borrowed from Keats, indicated he
wanted nothing more to do with me. Yet, here he is, having just forced my
hand, acting as though there was no other choice in the matter.
As Papá leaves to go find my mother, I watch as Kal continues packing
up, a sinking feeling weighing in my gut as I remember what else he said to
me all those weeks ago.
‘I’m not like the boys from your little private schools. I’ll ruin you and
not think twice about it.’
‘So ruin me,’ I’d said, so confident in my ability to withstand it.
Now, I can’t stop wondering what the hell I’ve gotten myself into.