The Time I Spent

It was the peeling paint on the garage door

It was the new windows in the big, old house

It was the snow on the ground and the snow on the table

It was the foreign breath that condensates on my lips

It was the car crash in the spring

It was the smoke that hit the ceiling and danced and twirled through the car

It was the mattress that belonged to no one

It was the razor blade beneath a tongue or behind an ear

It was the picnic table with carved initials

It was damp T-shirt’s

Sand between toes

Tattooed limbs in summer sun

The fight in the basement

Bikes hung from ceilings

The tears and the deep, calming breaths

Unspoken words

And too hot skin left out in the cold