I could see the pollution as H2O became the vehicle. Disguised like a cool mist hovering motionless above the ground. The slight breeze similar to April pushed it towards me. I tugged off the cigarette, remembering the flavor of her lips. She smoked this earlier. I discreetly remember licking my thumb and wiping the sweat salt from her eye. She cried last time, before this. I caressed her face like semi-cooled porcelain. I remember the heat she radiated. The scent of her hair, a sedative. A bond collected like my thoughts in the moments passed. I paced the wooden floor. There a trail marked many late hours. I feel I could see sound that evening. In tune with the atmosphere, I sensed the pressure, and the gravity we fight to stay vertical. I tugged on the cigarette, burning close to my fingers. Her breath, humid relative to the room temperature. Holding my head in my hands, I recycled memories of tracing shapes in cirrus. Watching the moon come up. The sprits still fresh in my breath. I put out the cigarette. I watched her dress. Her form magnificent with the lighting effects.