I know what it feels like...

I know what it feels like to stare into
a disaster and see your reflection.
To take a breath of fresh air blindly
while your older sister grimly takes her last.
I didn’t hear any screams or tires screeching,
just laughter loud enough to make you feel
guilty three years later.
Them memories don’t
fade like cigarette smoke,
but they linger,
they linger like its aroma.
Like her corpse in a casket,
resting in peace the way
she used to as a girl.
When all she wore
to sleep was a
nightgown
and a
smile.