Wine glass in hand,
we sat across from each other,
far in the corner of the
crowded room.
Silence prevailed,
bitten back words,
nails chewed down
to stumps,
bloody eyes,
unshed tears
from unsaid words.
They screamed at you,
my emotions,
my fears,
banging against the
delicate wall I had
built to keep them in.

Scream and scream,
bang and bang.


The table was round I remember,
with small holes gouged into the wood,
maybe from other nervous fingers,
ghosts of memories floated up to us
like question marks.
Has the wine loosened our tongues yet?
I certainly am ready to spill
my heart
but how do I stop the flood
that will drown me,
drown you,
and so, drown me again?

We thought ‘you’ and ‘me’ did
not exist and that
we were but one,
but suddenly here we are,
a table between us,
“two” bottles of wine,
one yours and one mine..
Our fingers, inches away from
each other’s,
like kept at bay by an invisible wall.

Seems fitting, doesn’t it?
When everything about us is
coming to an end?
When you will be somewhere
and I,
I will be somewhere else?

“The name of the poem was suggested by my lovely friend Christian Roca.”