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
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,
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
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....
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