A Christmas Eve's Wish

 Dear Santa,
It's been a chaotic year
Even though I've cried, I was still nice
Let's hope the last day's sky is clear!

Dear Santa,
I wish for warmth of love
Who came has came and who left has left
I'm done mourning the ones who left
And pain, I keep at bay, grace for those who'll stay.

Dear Santa,
On the night of Eve
I learned to choose myself
And I will sleep a night free of guilt.

So dear, Santa
A white Christmas?
or a pink Porsche?
Maybe...dear Santa...
A day of peace?

Dear Santa, 
I will sleep with no regret
My arms are full of scars
But this night, will be the best
So good that I won't wake up tomorrow.

Santa, pass on the words
When you slide down our chimney
Leave a sealed letter
Tell no one to worry!

A stuffed bunny
Baking gloves and snow gear
Made it known I did it 
Before I disappear.
But maybe spare the bunny
Says it's from you
The baby
—hasn't learned of death and fear.

Dear Santa, in insomnia
I'm a child over again
Stayed up waiting for you
In the glittery moon of somewhere far
—I heard the world's carols.

Goodbye, dear Santa
Capsules of pills and dreams
You would see me sleeping
So for as long as you could
—keep it away from my family.

Dear, do me a favor.
I'm sorry.

*************














Quick write of the '24! I swear this poem was really optimistic when I first started... Idk why they're always like this🥀

Anyways Merry Christmaaaas <333

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Voices

Image
         I don't know how, but I definitely need to get rid of my suicidal thoughts. There's too many of them, clouding and webbing up neurons of my brain —one by one.      The truth is: I've been hearing voices.  There's no way to end all this unless you die     it's behind you, it's chasing you —always kill yourself. kill yourself and end it all for everyone else, too. it's easy as one step....end the torture you know what? just fucking pull the tr—     The voices that latch themselves onto my spine without my permission, grapple my heart and squeeze it tight. The voices that are slowly snacking on my bone marrow, are now waiting for me to crumble just so they could feast on my mind, on my head that will soon be nothing but a skull of sloppy, tissues-like jelly, blood, and dirt.      So many times I have let those voices win. They were never there for me when I'm at my weakest, they're only there to make m...
Read more

What I Left and What Left Me

Image
  I thought I left my childhood behind with the country when I moved away, but I didn’t. The ghosts of the country haunt me, the scents and tastes of those years gnaw at me, the vague faces in homesick reveries grip me by the throat, rasping and whimpering about an uncompleted promise I once made.  And they won’t ever leave.       My childhood does not die at once, but multiple times throughout my life, reminding me of a life I had to reluctantly let go of. It died when I noticed that I no longer want to look back at the younger version of myself. It died again when I stepped off the plane into a land of foreign tongues, like an unfitting trespasser. Fragment by fragment, I tried to grip at the fading memories and begged them to stay—but they never listened. They keep on moving, keep on changing, keep on replacing themselves until the only thing left is broken shards of the life I once had. That life will never return, and I left so soon that I can’t ev...
Read more

Rotten Honey

Image
      Today is me and my wife's two years anniversary. I was away on a business trip last year, but I'm home now. I can't wait to spend the day with her.      It was only 8 a.m when I woke up, sunshine streaming lazily through the cracks of the curtains. My eyes opened slowly—it is unusually bright today despise it being the middle of winter and there are more clouds than there is sun. I sat up, looking groggily around the room. My wife is nowhere to be seen. This has been going on for a while, probably since I caught her having an affair with one of my colleagues a week ago (or, as I awkwardly refer to it: "The Incident"). I did not make a fuss out of it, but she has been avoiding me by spending her time lounging in our basement. We'd go to bed together at night, then I'd wake up all alone, nostrils stinging from a pungent smell of room freshener.      My wife suddenly developed a penchant for that smell, so she began to use it for our ...
Read more