The shimmering bright lights are blurry
holiday hallucinations -- reminders of the time
you don't have to spend with me
or even pretend to want to
9:30 PM leaves a bad taste in my mouth
like some stupid one hit wonder
And so the second hand chimes
pulling the rug out from underneath my stability
The ability to hold my breath escapes me
and I am falling to the floor
Passive moments place forced comments
inside of my heart
and they age me
like a sour wine --
they ferment into emptiness
and start to multiply uneasiness
My stomach feels the queasiness
like it did upon seeing the box today
I tried so hard to convey how much you mean to me
with a gift --
a small gift
but battered and torn
it didn't come out that way...
You are worn and have had enough
of me, of us
It's just as well
that I have nothing else to say
You wouldn't fucking notice anyway
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