Sometimes, through glimpses of this present life they insinuate.
They, the remnants of the past. Flashes of happy laughs or sunsets or flashes of dark days with desperation in full bloom.
They are erased, somehow i got them erased but that past, happy or sad it still hurts.
Today it hurt and i let it do it. The smell of hyacinth in spring and sidewalks full of handwritten chalk verses. And you.
Then the day passed by like a great relief sigh.