I didn't turn off the Christmas lights,
hoping you'd come back.
I walked in the cold,
hoping to meet you.
Last Christmas' rang out for the last time, still without you.
The warmth of Christmas was the only thing that kept me warm that winter.
My heart broke like a bauble.
Tears glistened in the candlelight.
The table was as empty as my insides.
I had worked out the peace inside me the last time, but you spoke again, shattering all the cages I had put my despair in. For once again you played with my emotions.
You got on a plane and left me like a failed Christmas present.
You are happy, I think, will someone else need me?
Your parents don't even know I exist.
My family ask me every Christmas when I'm going to bring someone?
How am I supposed to do that when you can't even give me one day?
You have the time to travel to Christmas markets all over the country, but you don't have one day to tell me if it's still worth it?
You should have.
Because when I die, I don't want to be your Ghost of Christmas Past, and I certainly don't want to be your Ghost of Christmas Present.

YOU ARE READING
Section of Dead Times and Poets
PoetryThis small volume contains a collection of my life's wisdom, dilemmas, downfalls. All of this is related to the burden of youth, complicated human relationships, both friendship and love. In all this chaos there is some hope and solace. For more ope...