trace your heart out

last time I saw her was
in a parking lot
at a
Jack In The Box
on
Main Street.
I got
inside her
Chevy F150
with the broken
right side of
the windshield
and
stared at
the cracks
as the
little pieces
of light reflected
like veins.
I looked
at her
and she still
had those
easy blue eyes
and platinum
blonde hair.
everything
about her
screamed
freedom
while
the
pit of
my stomach
ached
as I traced
and mapped
every
line like
a palm
reader.
it was
then
and there
that I
knew it was
all finally
over
and that
I would
never
see that
stupid
platinum
blonde
hair
again