Last Christmas, the radio droned out a sorrowful
song of a love gone foul by the betrayal of time
The Season’s poison tasted like blood in my mouth.
The festive air burnt in my encrusted lungs.
Tears of confusion stung with a vengeful heat-
and burnt up my pillow.
Cruelty echoed inside my head like a broken
I sat upon the balustrade that clammy day
and hummed a woeful dirge for memory’s sake.
I inhaled the fleeting illusion fed by doubt, felt
the cold chills brush my skin and harsh reality
mock my pathetic reflection.
The last sunbeam drowned in the lake reminding
me of my loss.
The night blanket followed suite simultaneously-
stroking my pain and loneliness.
The neon lights in the city blinded me.
The Christmas tree lights blinked synonymously
with my ugly reality check.
Christmas carols sounded like funeral hymns as
he haunted me at the midnight hour like Scrooge’s
ghost of Christmas past.
The singular mistletoe rhymed with Eric Benet and
Faith Evans’s “Christmas without you”.
The blues delved deep into my vintage soul.
I felt so alone last Christmas that words
overflowed and fed my empty yearly journal.
This Christmas, the radio will play a joyful song
in celebration of love.
I’ll banish your lingering phantom presence with
a new love’s embrace.
I’ll take the neon lights this time and make him
a beautiful crown because he is King.
Fill the house with the scent of cinnamon,
accessorize the outdoors with Christmas lights and
decorate the tree with tinsel and lace.
I’ll turn up the volume of the radio, and sing
along to “Drummer boy” as an appreciation for
the season’s new beginnings.
This Christmas, my baby and i will dance to
Alexander O’Neal’s “Our first Christmas”.
The overdose of love and happiness will fill my
poetry anthology this Christmas, and the remnants
of last Christmas’s painful archival manuscripts
will be shredded like Kraft paper.