Bruises and Rocks

I punch bruises and kick rocks through windows

Combing through the thicken brush and flowers

Thorns cut slivers into my skin

I punch bruises and kick rocks through windows

Climbing up the rusted brackets

Sore callouses forming on soft hands

I punch bruises and kick rocks through windows

Tip-toeing down the sullen hallway

small feet leaving no tracks in their wake

Leaning against the darkened doorway

I stunt my breath against the marbled wood

Frost turns my fingers into ice and my eyes

into gold

I punch bruises and kick rocks into windows.