despite what my father told me
at age twelve
at age twenty-one i've cried
more in two months than i have
in six years
cries over
love
jealousy
fury
guilt
my father warned me of spilt milk;
though he has only cried over spilt bodies
(when i was twelve, oddly enough)
there's something enlightening in tears
there's something warming in bringing my head
into stiff shoulders and leaking
i feel like a man
really
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