liverpool street station

i remember standing by the station in the cold. waiting for you.
i could see your strained features from a mile away.
i watched the lines of your shoulders cling to your shirt
as i followed you blindly down an alley. hoping
you would turn around and smile at me like you used to.

your apartment looked smaller than i remembered.
the mess i thought was once poetic now just gave me a headache.
your eyes were vacant and the sex was cheap. 
i wouldn’t be able to get the smell of you off me for days.

i didn’t want to be in this room anymore. i left for the balcony
while you were in the bathroom. the smoke from my cigarette tasted bitter,
maybe that was because i wouldn’t quit even though i knew how much you hated it.
i ignored you opening the glass doors and tried not to break down
as you pressed yourself into me and placed your chin on my head.

goodbyes were meant to be worth something.
but i left without a word before you could see me cry.
you looked so old with pain engraved onto your face.

i wanted to be a great love that you had lost.
but the truth was you didn’t give me much of a chance to love you.
you discarded me before i had the opportunity to get comfortable
inside a mind that i had gotten to know better than mine.  
i took the train home and slept to forget your face.