The Wish I Didn't Mention

We were arguing about the cost of the roof

and who forgot to lock the back gate.

You were citing the facts, providing the proof,

leaning into the familiar rhythm of hate.

But there was a lash on your cheek, a dark hook,

curled like a needle on the slope of the bone.

It ruined the anger, it softened the look,

and made me feel suddenly, sharply alone.

I could have reached out and brushed it away,

told you to make a wish on the hair.

Instead, I let the silence have its say

and watched it stay tangled and beautiful there.