Bleeding and aching,
coiled in bed,
you counted my freckles
like tiles on the ceiling.
Lit wicks of a candle
dripping hot wax
into your fresh, open hands.
I followed my jealousy
to the door of your closet
and sheltered myself from the rain.
Take love with sugar, or
Take love with salt.
If there’s anything to learn,
love’s not your fault.
