The bench holds a few memories of you and me
in pomerance park where we once sat
you told me a story about a girl you cheated on
but i wasn’t that girl
why were you apologizing to me?
you asked me if it was okay for you to take a smoke break
pulling out a cigarette box
red and white
marlboros were your favorite
but the smell of the ash was not mine.
why did you ask me if it was okay if you knew it wasn’t?
at the bench you told me about her
a name i forced myself to forget
would make me feel like i have competition
and everytime i compete with someone else
i never win.
why did you never focus on me?
under the tree
we called it our tree
you held my hand for the first time
and told me about the way you liked to intertwine your fingers
it was the same way you did it with her
the roots seemed better connected than we ever were
underneath our soles of our shoes my soul broke
every time you mentioned her.
now i sit on the bench alone
wondering if you ever got what you wanted.
did you ever want me or were you always going to be hung up on her?