I am
always falling for
the pavement.
The cold,
the rough,
the hard
pavement.

This pavement
yells,
screams
for me.

So
I look
and
I stare,
all day
and
all night,
giving it the
attention
I think it
deserves.

You begin
to realize  
the pavement is
a thing of
beauty.
So smooth,
so equal,
so perfect.
  
I yearn for
the pavement,
its wonder
more exquisite  
than anything
else in my
life.

Yet I am
clumsy
and trip,
and fall,
colliding  
with the
pavement.

Crimson
droplets
fall from
my nose,
landing on
the pavement
as I leave
the pavement.

It was hard
like falling
in love,
but not
being loved
in return.