Black Coffee, Wednesday Morning. Poem by Neil Gray

'So I take it you're going to be
there next weekend then? '

She's stood in the kitchen
wearing one of my shirts,
a smile and nothing else.

'Erm....I don't think so baby,
not really my scene.'

She continues to stir her coffee
but her shoulders have tensed
and suddenly the atmosphere
has gotten a lot darker.

'But you promised me...'

I can see her staring into her mug,
watching the black liquid swirl
in a whirlpool effect,
biting hard down on her
natural reaction,
wanting to explode,
wanting to scream at me,
but knowing that if she did
it'd get her no where.

'Yeah baby I know I did
but...you know...it just isn't me'

She turns and pads softly
back to where I lay
and perches herself on the end
of the bed.

She bows her head ever so slightly
and resumes stirring her drink.

'But I need you there.
I need your support.
I never ask anything of you but I'm asking you this,
Please come....'

How many men have been where
I now find myself?
How many times have we opened
our mouths only to find that our
conviction just isn't strong enough?

I want to tell her that I can't do it.

But I know that I'll crumble
and she does to.

I reach a hand out and stroke
her hair,
She raise's her face to me and
smile's just a little.

'We'll see baby...'

Seven day's later and I'm there,
front row centre,
surrounded by her friends and family
as she looks him in the eye
and without even flinching say's....

'I do....'