she will not be your
afterthought
your quarantine hit of dopamine

she deserves melodies
not staccato notes
pecked upon piano keys
by hands you’ll never let her hold
without recoiling

she deserves poetry
not slippery lines
dripped from lips like water
running
from a broken faucet

she knows better
she knows
running
is the only thing
that broken things
know how to do