Dirt

My heart is like dirt.
I am the dry and brittle ground lacking
rain. I am cracked and hard. I crumble
at the stomping feet of my friends holding
hands, wearing construction boots.
Rain, rain, don’t come today, my comrades
want to play. They play games of
love over me while I pretend I don’t
need watering. But the tell tale signs
chip right off to show that my heart
is like dirt, dry, brittle, barren.