On Liverpool Street

I’m looking deep.
Your eyes.
Puffed and crowed.

We sit near the steps.
Blue plume on Liverpool Street.
Silk Cut comforted.

Grass marks on jeans.
Your boots unpolished.
Where they kicked me.

I lie and say I love you.
Your bowed head,
refuses me again.

You can’t let go.
His punch, his spit.
I did of her. I did of her.

Remembrance.
As we board our trains.
To different stations.

Shaking.
Regressing.
Disappearing into history.