I went home today, straight after work
Because your curtains were closed
And although I didn't struggle with the quirk
Of thinking "But maybe..." (not really), hosed
Down with sobriety, I wondered at the darkness,
The loneliness, the determination (nose to grindstone,
Nose to grindstone), and with less than sharpness
I went home, nearly straight after work, and left you alone
And I left memories of another girl somewhere -
Possibly in your curtains - but you wouldn't care
To know that I no longer think, "I couldn't look him in the face" -
I now ask if I will be able to look at myself, in no one's place.