Rock hard you watch my legs wilt. You roll over like a cement truck, laying a light, cold absence. You are always old,  you are never old. You were the only witness  to my face, upturned, dripping in the eyes, mouth of a flower. And you didn’t love me. You gave me the memory of myself, asking for myself, but you in between would mediate nothing. And now you laugh at me, for expecting something more, like all the other girls buried under highways. You can see the day where I lay quiet as you, under your cement. You can see me when I tried to believe there was a witness to my belief. For 25 minutes, I stood under you hoping the length of time would earn me favors. My loyalty to what you stood for. That length of time was as meaningless then as is is now, but I still remember it. It is still an empty place, where the only light was you.