The festive mood wasn't so contagious,
but it brought me a sense of security,
false as the artificial roses I'd given
to all those whom I had 'loved' before.

The calendar was on its very last page
and I was well on my merry way
to down my final gulp of this concoction:
a blend of gloom and seething rage.

I nursed on the sour poison in my mouth
and mulled over scorned temporaries and
the would-be forevers who got away.
The clock hit twelve; I'm relieved of pain.