(i do.)

hopping with gashes down their sides
hopped in and fell down
to the missing squares
holding missing faces

you know
when the wind sweeps
by, between, i

hush because
                     it's cold



and on my right
red ink hand, i write

growing up 
means not knowing
if i should 
cry 
any
more


(i do)
and it's all dull,
dull from here
on out

stubble
stubble
stumbling blocks

fear it is
some everything
these days i never
knew you well
enough to know
now what
your silence means