'Twas the morning after Christmas
And all through the house
I heard echoes of your voice
Left before you had walked out
The tree was still glowing
Lit up like your eyes
I wished to set it ablaze
To add another goodbye
Wrapping paper remained on the floor still in tatters
Reminding me all of the gifts I received that didn't really matter
Last Christmas I joked that all I wanted was to put a bow on your head
This Christmas I'd just settle for bow-less you instead
But holiday wishes never come true
And so, the morning after Christmas
I sat and remembered that I had lost you.
YOU ARE READING
Time Alone
PoésieWhy do I write? Half to save my life, half in an effort to explain what makes life ugly, difficult, dreadful, and indescribably worthwhile. (Of course it's about a girl) This is what I learn in my time alone.
