step one she

pulls at your puppet strings

wraps your heart valves around

her fingertips. you fall for it every time.

step two she

breaks your heart like a glass

of milk getting tipped from the counter

top, messy and sharp. she does not cry

over spilled milk.

step three i

do cry over spilled milk, cut my hands

on the shards while trying to pick them up

and piece them together again. things that get

broken like that aren’t easily fixed. i’m not here

to fix you.

i am here to love you

and to cry over spilled milk.