Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Mar 2013
My hands are black from the dirt I've been pounding my fists in
and my tears roll down my nose and settle at my lips.
My knees are sore and stained green from when I collapsed.
I collapsed.
Thinking of you, I collapsed.
And my knees hit the ground, leaving them sore,
and I made fists and watched my tears turn the dirt
into mud when I collapsed thinking of you.
Eric Guitian
Written by
Eric Guitian  Miami
(Miami)   
460
   ---
Please log in to view and add comments on poems