One extra glass of merlot
And you came running.

You cried out those forbidden words
And I told you that you were drunk.
“Drunken words are sober thoughts.”

I think you had forgotten by the morning.

You wrote a poem for me
And I cried.
You said I brought out the best in you.

You dreamt that you awoke to find
A figure at the foot of your bed:
An angel.

You said you longed to walk hand-in-hand,
To hold me in the darkest hours of the morning.

Where are you now?