The Asphalt has Many Pretty Stones

By Marlas Whitley

Wet face soaked in tears too hot and salty
The machinery in me broken, faulty
Dissembled piece by piece, cease to amaze
My mind ablaze with regret and pipe dream
Come loose at the seam, hard to sew back
All the things you want I lack, hate the fact
And all I am is gone, in love with you
If only you knew, if only you saw
I am not enough, why even keep on?
And all in my mind is memory
Will you remember me when all is done?
Us holding hands in the golden-ray sun
The heat rose from the asphalt, and they shone
The stones we found so pretty, like me, you said