There (Where You Are)

Somewhere between these concrete walls, I can see a reflection of the waning moon against the panes of the darkening window. And clutched between my fingers, the letter from the you of another time. Secretly, I recite it every night. Every night of 10 years. Because once upon a time beneath the cherry blossom trees, there was the smell of blood and the sound of breaking bones reverberating inside my head. The unforgettable taste of iron and the gasp of punctured lungs. That must have been where it all began.  A time before I tried grasping at the ghostly lights and tendrils of smoke that still elude me. 

And somehow unintentionally, underneath these eyelids, the memories of you blur, trickle out and disappear.