For Christmas.




I’d want you to stand still,
while I bury my face against the warmth
of your palms.
Eternity would pass by unnoticed,
I’d be clutching on tight your burdened arms.
So you stand unmoved in the sweat and tears,
supporting my weighty brain,
callous from all the kill.


I’d want you then to convince
my evil that you’re an evil too.
Flawed, a painting mottled with imperfections,
I’m insecure when it comes to you.
Don’t act surprised nor smile contrived,
for a response lukewarm
could propel me again into the abyss,
in which my evil grew.


I’d want you to be strong for Us.
Even if I drift apart,
along with my glass full of incoherent yet
burgeoning thoughts.
No shroud of judgement, just simple acceptance
that at this moment true, we belong together.
Only wait till I fall asleep
and leave on the sly, I know you must.

For Christmas,
I’d want you to promise…
to live this again, the next Christmas.


Loads of Love.


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