first love is to the heart as first moss is to a sidewalk
a first love transforms a heart
like moss in the cracks of a brick sidewalk
the growth is selective.
once it starts to grow,
the sidewalk is forever changed
more fulfilled, more complicated, more beautiful.
i ripped out the moss
innocently bored and needing to pick
satisfied with the sound of the roots tearing
subconsciously squeezing, crushing, killing
it was not until after the deed was done,
that i learned of its beauty.
once cracks in the brick
now wounds of the sidewalk
left open. left empty.
But tonight I'm embracing the idea of being a bare sidewalk.
I know a sidewalk with out moss can feel the wind blowing through its cracks. With me and only me, I am more sensitive to the world. I think I'll keep ripping at that moss like its a weed.
I'm still not ready for any regrowth.
i want to feel the wind of the world.
