I wouldn’t believe them when they told me what would happen were I to drop my eyes. I remember how my mum’s tears flowed like the plastic tube embedded in my arm. Who knew a needle could be a best friend? Who knew that girl would be there when I crossed the line? Her fingers running through the wind, her last smile a snapshot taped behind my eyelids. I remember having someone else’s blood in my veins, on my hands, and bandages on a new face when all I wanted was to fall back into my old body. Who knew that a second could define a lifetime? More than my second first steps, more than my first seconds after. I remember her tiny, sparkling shoe next to my hand, the other melted in metallic skin my own reflection piercing through the sequins. I remember everything about that shoe and the lights and every needle in my arm, but I don’t remember what It said Who knew I could forget what was once so important? Who knew I wouldn’t see her until our windows- our shoulders- nearly touched? Who knew what could happen? They did. They all knew. And I wouldn’t believe them.
“Who Knew?” is a poem that peeks into the tangle of pain that accompanies a fatal car crash.