Water running over concrete

like ants.

like shooting stars.

like the tears on my cheeks.

smudge of blood on my sweater

as though it was part of the fabric.

gravel and stones in my knees,

earth in my eyes,

dirt in my face.

You snicker and ask

how i'd like that

tell me i'm

not so brave now, am i?

and i let you laugh because

concrete kisses

still hurt less than

the ones

you

give.