she wipes flour from her apron

and her heart breaks a bit more

crumbling

with each new batch of cookies

prepped and baked

(No Valentine's Day cookies this year)

With each loaf wrapped

her tears add salt to dough

the flavor of lost love

she wonders what will become of her

as butter folds itself

into flour

hiding

melting away

until nothing is left to moisten the dough

Icing glides out onto surface

slick and sweet

as she frosts

white hot anger

of betrayal

knives at the ready

she cannot touch

she fears

like little lives

torn out of a comic book

blades infused with grief

she turns back to flour, sugar, butter

and folds them

over and over again.