She wraps the presents with cheap paper
on the desk against the wall, lit by dim
Christmas lights. All the unwrapped toys
are in the pink plastic basket at her feet,
and she stacks the finished ones at the
foot of the bed.

I’m propped up on the pillows, touching
myself and stroking my chest as I watch
her work, charmed by how her bones
and muscles move beneath her skin. She
turns around with a finished gift and
sets it down. Her eyes meet mine and she
simpers, biting  her lower lip, then turns
and picks up another toy.

I leave the bed, careful not to knock
anything off, and walk up behind her.
She keeps working on the present as I
pet her shoulders and brush my fingers
along her back. I press my body against
hers, wrapping my arms around her
waist and planting kisses on her neck.

She stops working and places her hands
on mine, tilting her head back and
letting her hair drape my shoulder. I
move my hand down her stomach and
across her hair, and I rub her. She huffs
and brings my other hand to her *******,
beckoning me to caress her. I circle
tighter, faster, harder, and she moans
and reaches her hand back to caress me.

I nibble at her ear, and she lets out a
heavy moan, and I whisper in her ear

“You are a wonderful mother.”

Her breathing slows, and she nudges
my  hand from her. “Don’t say that” she
whispers. We stand there, frozen, before
she continues working on the present.
I stay there behind her, realising my
best intentions were a mistake.

“I’ll just go then.” I put my clothes back
on and remove the trash bag from the
bin to take with me to make sure her
husband doesn’t find my condoms.
“Merry Christmas.” I close the bedroom
door and leave her home, careful not
to wake her kids.

-
by Aleksander Mielnikow | Alek the Poet

A deep dilemma I was in
Should I ask Santa for a reindeer or an ELF
Then a voice whispered
Why don't you ask for the courage to love yourself ?

As the snow undoubtedly decides that it’s to good to fall,
I lay in my lukewarm bed, praying to catch a wink of sleep.
It is not because I am exited, nor do I want to catch Santa Claus,
I just have a case of insomnia, that’s pretty much it.

But as I look out my window at the clear sky,
A radiant arrow of piercing moonlight strikes my heart,
Shaking me to my solemnly steeled core,
A core as cold as the clean world lying out my window,
And as sturdy as the nice red balloons found at parks.

I try to speak, but I am speechless, breathless.
I realize my lungs are devoid of air,
So I take a rapid breath inwards,
A breath far sharper than my blooded razorblades.

And then I spoke.

I stand there, asking, pondering, realizing,
and further disappointing myself...
I question my past choices, look at the people I’ve loved.
A short list, containing only two names to be held dear.
A female and a male. I love both,
but neither loves me back.
I question how to look forward, how to move on,
But I cannot find an answer

On this despairing Christmas night.

A CHRISMAS STORY – Part 1

In a time, past was Christmas eve,
A tense quietness spread throughout the house,
No one wanted attention not to dare even a mouse,
Dad snoring on the couch didn’t see our mother leave,

Dad came home two hours late,
Said, “He was drinking at the club with Casey and his son,
He left early, a little before eight,
What the hell he bellowed, I work hard just a little fun,”

Mother said the boys wanted to open just one present,
Dad starred, “every year the same, “NO”,
“We open them Christmas morning, all Santa had sent,”
Mother also was drinking, and said, “Why the hell no, and NO.”

Dad walked to the tree looking at the presents in disgust,
Mother said why are you always like this,
“Open all of them” he shrieked, “IF YOU MUST!”
Then he kicked and broke every toy, not even one did he miss,

The night before Christmas it was very quiet in our house,
Nothing was stirring, not even a mouse.



A CHRISTMAS STORY – PART 2

The two boys’ clothes were tattered,
Yes, their hair was long, had Nana brought a toy?
Grandma would fuss, but it hadn’t mattered,
Their smiling ***** faces shinned Christmas joy,

Early the boy walked the cold wood floor,
To the living room, lighting the old ceramic heater,
From the one-bedroom, the others poured out the door,
Warming hand and feet at their only heater,

Money was short dad said,
Gas went off at night,
The boys saw only the gifts instead,
And the shining Christmas light,

They played with the few new toys,
Having fun, the two boys,
Dad ask one for some water to drink,
The boy ran quickly to the kitchen sink,

His head swooned, what had this meant,
He gasped at what he eyed,
Back to his brother he went,
Pulling his shirt to show what he spied,

Two beautiful red bikes sat on the floor,
They turned around and dad leaned against the door,
Merry Christmas he said,
I sold my car but will ride the truck instead.

By Jim Kirk-Wiggins (c) 2019, All Rights Reserved
LiberiPress.com