The bottle

On the table lies the bottle...
a reminder of yester-year, however rotten
To me,
then,
the bottle,
a representation of us and times of merriment
looking at it now, I realise the beginning of the end of us
I wish you were here so I could hold you one last time,
I move back and never to the front
I wish you were here so we could share one last glass,
I move back and never forward
in crowds I smile...
then the bottle.
it sits on the table, our favourite wine
I wish you were here so I could hold you one last time
I wish you were here,
my wine...
you fucking swine!