Justin Currie

Still In Love

Lovers leave their traces like jets across the sky

They find in others’  faces lines they recognise

My keepsakes have their places –

At the back of a drawer or slipped between pages and stuck on a shelf

But I’m still in love with nothing but myself

Yeah, sometimes I remember the way they signed their names

And always in December I feel some kind of shame

The heart it stays so tender –

I reminisce like a hangman wishing his prisoners well

But I’m still in love with nothing but myself

I know their mothers’ ages

I know all the stories so well

And I know I’ll see their faces in hell

So wipe away their traces, blow the dust off from the shelf

‘Cos I’m still in love

With nothing but myself