Lonely Bench

That old park bench is so pretty in the fall. All covered in golden and pink leaves, the sunset reflecting off it's metal parts and the shadows from the trees casting eerie light upon it. I remember when I used to sit there. Holding his hand, thinking that this was our forever. Reading on a park bench in the city, waiting for the sun to start setting and then watching it, holding each other.

It was your hand I used to hold.

It was your eyes I used to stare into and wish for forever. That's all gone now.

The only thing left is this park bench. The scent of it's wood reminding me of you, the wind whistling through the crevices in the wood giving me the illusion of you once again whispering in my ears.

I sit here now. Remembering the old time and wishing for a moment of peace. A moment when I can forget about your face, your laugh, you as a whole. Where I wish the world would stop and I could just have a moment for myself. A moment where I can be content watching the same old sunset and reading the same old books alone. When I don't need your smooth hand to comfort me.

But, I can't stop time.