I can see the air
I can taste it
Crisp like winter is coming
Harsh like the cinders in a camp fire
I can see the air
The way you can see snow
And clouds
And fog
The way a microscope can see cells
And a lover can see life
In every space
For miles on in every direction
I remember a car crash
I remember my heartbeat in my throat
And my limbs still and silent
The way you're paralyzed in a dream

But I don't remember why
I don't remember the beat of the rain on the windshield
I don't remember the way your lips sat on your face
Expressionless
Like they might not be there
And there wouldn't be a difference
Or the ten dollars I gave you to get a coffee
And the seven dollars and twenty-three cents I wasn't given in change
The properties of the Hinge Theorem
Being your reason for cutting across the lawn
Every time
That red light in your room
In the corner
Barely visible
Barely noticeable, till it was dark and I couldn't sleep beside you
The way I never saw her cry again
After she shut off the tears
That one time
In my basement
The way her mom never said, "I'm sorry,"
And probably never will
Because what do those things matter now?
It's been a year
Maybe two
Time doesn't heal but it dulls the pain
And I guess that must be the same thing
To adults