“Wilting like petals on a cold November evening, You ask me if Christmas reminds you of something And I am speechless. Words don’t utter a sound when I roll my tongue to slap it across the roof of my mouth. Am I supposed to say something that reminisces mistletoe kisses and fills the fibers of your lips with warmth? I only remember everything but nothing that you could hear. Darling, some nights are meant to be spent alone with a fortress of white tiles and hugs from your knees against the back wall. Christmas was painful and a mess where the world happened to me and I collapsed with it. No stardust or magic, no beauty in destruction on this side of the picket fence, it was all dirt And mud in the dark alleys of this jungle. I can Tell you all about laughter because I’ve spent Everyday since then, imagining its ring stumble across My doorsteps for once. No, Christmas doesn’t Remind me of something, No, I don’t stay up making Craters on the moon in search of a home. No, I am not trying to dig my way back up with the World hissing on my shoulders. No. I am not hurting anymore.”
— what christmas was like (via dreamcatcher-777)
