Bench

It started with a bench
That wet wooden bench, that felt so warm on that winter night
Together, sat as one, thoughts in union
Tip-toeing into the fountain of lust
Her lips
My lips
Combined in unison created a spark
But this spark
Dimmed by the cold dampness of the bench
It hides
Hides away from the winter wind
Stays strong through the spring into summer
The sun sears the bench
The spark turns into a flame
Flame turns into a fire
Fire turns into finale
Her lips go left
Mine go right
To escape the fight
What once was a birthplace of love
Lays a fireplace
Embers glow underneath the char like dying stars
Far
Far behind what once was