if air could break, i think the shards
would dissolute into fiberglass. taste-
less & clear as water & thick as the blood
that used to thum red under my fingers.
(sometimes, at night: that strange hour
between midnight & forever, part of me
remembers that you're not here but
a thousand miles away from me... and -
i still wonder if the air tastes the same.)
a/n: i miss hearing her talk about you.