It Is Only

It is only a moment of forgotten joy but it lives none-the-less.

Trees echo the road and, unlike the past, there is no one waiting for me.

I turn to your memory of solace and pain, needing something concrete as an anchor.

Walls greyly shadow and take away the light.

Your letter arked our pasts, protecting old lies and unremembered betrayals.

But now your touch and your smile are a myth.