I Wish You Had Come Tonight

I wish you had come tonight.

There was a sadness sitting to be shared. Like an unfinished bottle of wine.

A sort of endlessness that made no demand, and had no expiry date, and yet wished to be drunk. And done with.

I so wish you had made it, without the cactus in your hair, the bludgeons upon your face. Waiting with impregnable arguments, daring to be felled.

I so wish you had let them fall. And allowed a surprise to sneak upon us like a black cat silhouetted against a moonlit night upon a terrace ledge.

Suddenly.