Liverpool Street

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

We sit on the step
Blue plumed
Silk Cut comforted.

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

I 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.
Both folding into history.