There should be at least one good cry scene
preferably in bed, pre-dawn. Hands
reaching out through darkness, spared only
by a light from someone else's window,
touching. Fingers tracing skin as if to clasp
memories in their tips. Eyes freezing images
on tomorrow's mind. To be kept.
Promises should be made; all the usual avowals,
along with apologies for minor transgressions.
Tea drunk hastily. Love made in one last
frantic bid – for good measure.
Figures should disappear round shady corners,
clutching cases. Stumbling. Eyes should be
wet. Vision blurred.
Last year you were missing someone else.
This year holds a whole new sorrow
Tidy away the scribbled notes
Take down the photo's – begin again.