Cracks and Scars

Yellow lines ripple

under my steps,

paint blistering like old skin.

Heat curls off cracked asphalt,

a forgotten place

between hum and silence.

Scabs of peeling color

mark spaces empty

but for scattered gravel

and a loose paper bag

fluttering like a thin sigh.

I stand in the quiet,

the worn edges

of something meant to hold us

but left breaking apart.