grieving (phoenix)

With a smile unfit for the occasion
He hands me back the manuscript
Looks at me with infinity sympathy
Then says: you’re still in love with
Him; I doubt you’ll ever get over it

It would have been so much easier
And so much better suited, if he’d spat
Out his venom and left me all polluted

Instead there’s nothing
But this bottomless well
To indicate the depths
Of being left with empty
Hands, somehow twice, and
We’re still good friends

Calls his missus on his mobile
And leaves me to my tears
For he’s said it all and now
I’m left within nothing but my
Fears - projected on my two
Half-empty, lukewarm beers -
Which I swallow hard and solidly
As I know there’s just my grief
For you’re not here and he is right
And in any case, there’s no relief

Do I wait for the miracle to come
Or do I quench my thirst
With nothing but the sustenance
Of another futile outburst?

I close my eyes,
Stroke my fingers
Along your spine
Throw stars into
Your shiny eyes
And claim you
As only mine…
Soak up your smell
And now it’s ours
Not just mine
Not just yours
Then take you
In my hands
That hold that
I’m forever yours

And we’re still good friends