Another Christmas Eve Saturday night break-up
Another time with nowhere at all to go
Or rather
No one now to go out with
No swirling starlights
No girls eyeing up the boys
No boys
Becoming excited between the thighs
Sat alone in the darkness
The indefatigable darkness
Lined as with lining paper
All around the lost souls
No moons and no crescents
No presents of rich perfumes
No missions and no roasting chestnuts
All is a sense of deserting the lover’s last role
