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Stinging cold moves in colored neon lights. A memory is alive. I wanted to send wishes to so many people today. I couldn’t. The words wouldn’t come out. A carol sounds in my head. These holidays have changed. Something that wanted to shine goes out. Only green pine carries the scent of the forest. It’s easy to love from a distance. Harder to feel a fire that doesn’t burn, but brings to life. Between places, silence helps. All hands need warmth. A star blinks from far away. I sit in a cozy room. I look at the space between here and there, at a smile that covers it, at what is required, and what presses, and yet matters . I see myself in colored lights. This gentle being called my life touches me like a packet of almonds, like a candle scented with chocolate. These days are different. They’re real. They feel close.
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Dec 24, 2025
Dec 24, 2025 at 6:09 PM UTC
Christmas Eve
Stinging cold moves in colored neon lights. A memory is alive. I wanted to send wishes to so many people today. I couldn’t. The words wouldn’t come out. A carol sounds in my head. These holidays have changed. Something that wanted to shine goes out. Only green pine carries the scent of the forest. It’s easy to love from a distance. Harder to feel a fire that doesn’t burn, but brings to life. Between places, silence helps. All hands need warmth. A star blinks from far away. I sit in a cozy room. I look at the space between here and there, at a smile that covers it, at what is required, and what presses, and yet matters . I see myself in colored lights. This gentle being called my life touches me like a packet of almonds, like a candle scented with chocolate. These days are different. They’re real. They feel close.
Agnes-de-Lodz
Written by
48/F/Poland
Dec 24, 2025
Dec 24, 2025 at 6:09 PM UTC
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