Tousled hair, reflection's unkempt wisps;
January's sale, strewn underwear
disheveled. like Tracy Emin's bed.
Regretted turnstile, of your nights
lay alone with just your thoughts
and so much pleasure tinged with guilt.
Conceited stains, mark the grubby quilt.
Each lover they set sail
left you crying, unrepaired.
Tempus fugit as they fled
ignored the gift that you'd prepared.
Lays the empty tanning tube
the razor blunt, that shaved your pubes.
A gift that togetherness achieved.
Commitments split and night-birds sang
discords tune, left you unmanned.