how to not die alone(on hold)

Festive season

I dont know how to write sweet words or to

leave a familiar taste in my readers mouth. but
if i picture the gradually increasing fuzziness of christmas lights fading and expanding with every year -
if my vision declines and with closed eyes smell only pine and smoke,
hear only paper tearing, the rustling of a dog against a tree,
perhaps you are alone but you are alone with all these centuries, all this glowing,
and the air is so much like glass like something sharp
it could shatter and the reds and blues and yellows would fracture into some mistletoe lodged in your throat,
then maybe St Nick can hold my hand, can make a deal and be my ghost writer
and teeth would rot from the pleasantness of it all.

hoya