Small bumps on the road,
the orange light from the street lamps glow
like a midnight sun
and I fell in love with the girl beside me,
sleepy and lovely
with a scar underneath her chin -
a childhood souvenir because
she could never stay still;
her hair free and wild
like her.

And I'm looking at her,
feeling the cold wind on my face
though I've never felt this warm.

Stupid and spirited,
I know I will give her name as the answer
when years from now a child asks me
about my youth.

Old man Bukowski said:
The flesh covers the bones
and they put a mind in there
and sometimes a soul..
I believe God
poured and poured
all the glorious things on her
and gave her a hand-made heart of gold.

And maybe this isn't going to end well
and well, all of this is forbidden,
like the apple
but still sweet
so never mind the toothache
or the possible heartbreak.

This is my broken heart
To love and not be loved in return
To have doubts
To not know where I am headed
To be untrusting
To be lied to
To be led on
To be breathlessly in love
To have jealousy
To have no clear answer
To be broken
To be unheard
To be unsure about love at all
To be unsure of life itself
To be hurt
To cry alone
To always be the strongest
Even when I'm weak

This is my broken heart
A beautiful mess