I came across her crying in
the puke-foul bathroom
of In Blue.

As I went to wash
my hands I spied her
pointed red shoes
beneath the basin.

Her friend was maing soothing sounds, I was
to leave
unobtrusively

without looking into her lovely tear-stained face, or
the lovely broken heart
printed upon it. Nor was I to mention

how you tire of crying
in stinking nightclub bathrooms, over
a brittle lyrical version of love that
breaks as soon as it's built.