by Julia Boriss

Created on: May 23, 2007

Shattered Girl

The boy sat nervously with his girl
On the hood of his car, behind the Pizza Hut.
That was the night the sky was blind
To the endings already written within it
And it spoke to them only of soft beginnings
With its gentle breeze and soothing whisper
That held in it every promise of summer,
Like open-toed shoes in April.

And the girl told herself she loved this boy.

He had asked her to prom, afterall,
With a guitar and a rose.
And she wanted so badly for that to be enough
To last her through the summer.
But the other boy still loomed over her
Like an elephant in her delicate rowboat of happiness.
In his strong, uncaring hand he still held her heart,
A peach well past its season, damp
And bruised. In all the places that matter most.
But maybe, she thought, nobody would notice
Until the season's warm air turned brisk again
Or at least until the twilight faded into morning.

As the boy took her hand, he asked if she was happy.
She answered yes with an uneasy grin
And an uncertain tone.
And he believed both without question.
After spending the last four years loving her,
He couldn't really afford not to.
And he delighted in the way the moonlight softened
Her already silky hair.

Although later he would grow angry
For the way his love was tossed out the window
Like a cigarette, then crushed in passing,
He never would regret the night he got to spend with her
On the hood of his car, behind the Pizza Hut
Sharing the same unknowing piece of sky
With the cool summer breeze that loved him infinitely
And the shattered girl that never could.

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