My name is gone.

Sitting on a bench, listening to strange noises around my body, teardrops running down my cheek. Woosh! People passing me by, flying with invisible wings, carrying bags and worrying about what the day might bring. I held your hand. I held it for so long and it somehow seems I must let it go now. Not that I want to, oh no. If I could, I would hold it for the rest of my days. Our time has passed, 'we' are history, we were history a long time ago and yet I could not face the truth. Now the truth cought me unprepared. The sun is setting, yellow light is warming up my cold hands, september is getting closer and I'm avoiding all those places we went to. I may see you there and everything will look like it's back to normal. It's always back to normal. Whoever and wherever would I be.