After we part,
I tell myself that next time
I will not be so eager
It takes one phone call to lose my resolve
Your voice is cottony, like a warm towel
You apologize and my cheeks swell with impossible little wins
We make plans
I walk on clouds for a few hours
Until you grab the nape of my neck with a gloved hand
You lay out your instruments and I am forced to watch
As you cut away and label small pieces of my heart
I shake my head
Next time, I will not be so eager