The money I'm saving on Christmas this year
will be incredibly useful for buying more beer
I'm not buying presents for family and friends
But this festive season I will be making amends

I'll never shop early for presents to give
I swear on my mother, for as long as I live
For while looking for boxes and our Christmas tree
I found boxes of presents from seventy three

All wrapped up and labelled in a box all alone
Hidden by an old blanket that was haphazardly thrown
Beside it, more presents from around eighty four
And as I kept on searching I found many more

There were presents for Grandad, who is now pushing daisies
And a few for Aunt Marg, who we all know was crazy
Gifts for the children, who now have kids of their own
In fact almost all are for children who've grown

I found a few that were given from Santa himself
And a few for my husband on an old wooden shelf
All wrapped up and labelled and dusty as well
I'd febreeze them downstairs to get rid of the smell

I promise from now, I will write down what I hide
And I'll draw a small map to use as a guide
I can't wait now for Christmas to see what we've got
From all the Christmases past, and the gifts I forgot!

I hear your voice pound through my head
Even though you're barely dead
Here and gone like summer heat
Your voice still rocks me fast asleep
Take my dreams to a safer place
Where I can touch your lovely face
Where I can embrace you one moment more
I still remember when you walked out the door
If I'd had known that was the last
I would have never let you pass
But now you're gone and I'm alone
Still waiting for you call,
My eyes haven't left the phone

Don't push me.
I am a force to be reckoned with.
My words can castrate you,
decapitate you,
depreciate you.

Don't push me.
My words are a hurricane
that will rip down the house
you've built on your righteous soul.
My words are a tsunami
that will sink the ship
you sail across your radical sea.
My words are a tornado
that will tear you straight
from your solid ground.

Don't push me.
I weave tales of anger and woe
that force themselves into your mind,
that break you from the inside,
tales that take you past
your comfort zone.

Don't push me.
I can make you fall with this poem.
I can make you cry with my story.
I can make you scream with a few words.

Don't push me.
I am a force to be reckoned with.

"I just don't think we're 150 percent perfect for each other" you said.

You didn't seem to think that when we were best friends.
You didn't seem to think that when we were in bed.
You didn't seem to think that when we were in love.

You didn't seem to mind when you told me you loved me.
You didn't seem to mind when you met my family.
You didn't seem to mind when you said it could be forever.

Did it ever cross your mind what I gave up for this?
All gone, my best friend, my lover, my passionate bliss.

And here I sit in the world, half-way around, with all the pieces of perfection you threw to the ground.

Why can’t be all learn we don’t have to fit in?
That we shouldn’t be judged on sexuality or skin?
Anyone who thinks they have found their match
Should be **** proud and hope that it lasts.