The buttons of this shirt fit together so well
One grows into the other, they draw together an expanse of space
There is a crease where the sharp lapel should be
Masked by sequins of metallic hues.

Somehow this canvas feels inept, disjointed.
When we drove beside the water, I saw a row of lights across the harbour -
Symmetrical, perfect, unlike the breaks in the sea.
The car bent into darkness again and the glow faded.

But I can still see the lights through these dull nights
The water a rising swell of rough paint.

I know you don’t love me. I know that now.
I feel like that water, unsettled by a stirring wind.

Tonight people are drunk and rambling happy
I smile and close the door.
Listen to the muffled, good-natured shuffling of their footsteps
through the wall.

It’s hard to conjure sparks when things are grey
I drift to sleep encased in cold sheets.