i told myself never to let love in again, but here i am, burned by the same flame twice.

what’s the news—
same old, fussing over holidays
open hand or closed fists
hear the noise on the staircase

what’s that?
christmas eve, just around the corner
you can see the sweet evanescence
in the hanging lights,

like colorful wreathes in our eyes
merciless even when November
is still here, nostalgia sweetens
my blood and melts me to sobbing song