I Got No Home for Christmas

We woke to red and green in
a spinning ravine.

The future used to be
our living room but we
can’t move the pieces
so easily like it’s
furniture anymore.

An eerie presence has settled on
the woodwork of
a derelict porch,
tucked inside upholstery
that used
to all but support our bond,

on cushions we kissed and conned ourselves,
yawned watching shadows spell out
writing on the walls.

And while you may be gone, foreclosure rising on this bungalow like so many dawns we walked to daybreak, it accentuates your imprint in every mattress, love seat and physical madness bound inside a house of chain links.

You wore my spirit like evergreen sweaters.
I donned everything worth saving
as a jinx.

But to make sacrilege of a sphinx,
it took two, yeah;

you in
your spiral and me in
my drink;

one of us over
the top, another on
the perpetual brink.

Holiday-themed struggles and
celebrations I think invited
trouble over for
dinner and rejoice
and scissors that
unwrapped our
weakest
link.

Grateful I’ve
got the furniture that stops just
short of changing walls, but these decorated
halls ain’t decked
the same without you.

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3 thoughts on “I Got No Home for Christmas

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