Every Christmas,
there's always
one less card
on the mantelpiece.
A space at the table
left unoccupied,
the absence
of another voice
in the room.
My first memories of Christmas
are packed with laughter,
relatives crowding,
chattering,
happy to see each other.
But this year,
the halls are empty,
and the decorations locked away.
Nobody has the heart to celebrate
around here
any more.
YOU ARE READING
still surviving
PoetryA collection of poems and diary entries from the diary of a girl with mental illness. These are the words unspoken, the raw reality of fighting against your own mind in the battle for recovery. Some content may be triggering for some readers, partic...
