milk

you had hoped I would solidify
that’s why
you did not invite
me around sooner

instead you let me curdle
and sour

but i am still tea drinking
and thinking
of you at night

even as stranger tongues
lap salted skin
and dark saucer eyes
dry

the milk, your milk
is a morning delivery
that will not arrive

attaching such sentimentality to the contents of your fridge
is just like something i would do

and you know that
i know that
you know
that i do

but it’s April now
and you’re worried about expiries in May
and in June
as if you hadn’t planned to see me before then

i crumpled like a carton
when i knew
there was no use crying over what’s been spilt here
or over you