In Love You Learned

How to break a book at the spine, how to rip out the pages without tearing them, how to cut them into
origami squares & how to crease the paper just right. How to fold a bunny, how to fold a lily, how to fold
a star because once when you were desperate you promised her the world but a paper one was the best
you could do. That you can get a period stain out with lemon juice & you need dish soap to wash wood
stain out of paintbrushes. How to make lavender syrup & how to warm a tortilla so it doesn’t break. That
Saint Lucy had her eyes gauged out & Saint Agatha had her tits chopped off & there was a reason you
always felt uncomfortable in churches & uncomfortable with boys & why you didn’t fall in love until the
love being offered was from a girl. That you need to curve your fingers to make her come & curve your
fingers to make yourself vomit. How to style a handkerchief to cover hickeys, how to bite without hurting
& that most cliches are true. How to open, how to soften, how to be touched without flinching & then
how to break. That nothing is ever really a promise & tears dry out the skin & the safest place to burn
things indoors is the kitchen sink. How to disinfect a stick and poke tattoo & how to shotgun a beer. How
to embroider, how to do a downward dog, how to bake a loaf of bread. How to fill your time to avoid
filling it with thoughts of her. How to be wounded. Not how to heal, but how to live with an absence.
How to talk to yourself & eat with yourself & fuck yourself. That this body is the only thing you know for
sure you will always have & if it is all you ever have, it will have to be enough.