Scummy Puddles

Beaten Smashed Kicked And splashed Out into the street Like dirty bathwater Nothing more than a filthy puddle Rising over the curb Flooding the sidewalk cracks Eager for evaporation Every hair Is On end Every pore At attention Yearning skin Is stretching for a touch That never existed Pulled Like the blankets Of children Over worried heads Attempting Their Satisfying seclusion For when there is no direction Passion is formless And love loses shape