The ticking hands of time and
Many miles more than before is what lies between us now.
But still, I find myself in this place
That’s so similar to what I once called ours.
So I sit on a bench in the same way I did before
And let my hand creep into the empty space that was yours.
The earth smells different to how I remember it but what I remember most is you.
Your hand chained to mine, like I was your anchor.
I had to stay on the ground while your eyes drifted away to the solitude in your mind.
I always felt like they should shine brighter, your eyes
But they were suffocated under the shadow of your sadness.
I found comfort in the smell of the tree-tinged air
The feel of the earth in my palm waiting for me to create something with it.
It wasn’t me who kept everything down
And I was never meant to be an anchor.