butterfly>
biscuits>
olive =
get emotional

butterfly>
needles>
stitch=
me up please

something
is very wrong

tis the season
to smile
go home
and cry

hope??
haven’t seen her

it’s all
blood vials
dead dogs
expired wine
fruit dropped
on the floor

children walking by
looking for a
drunk nutcracker
named tipsy

and i can’t even
syphon off some
of their joy
because something
is definitely wrong
and they’re fresh out

where do the
butterflies go
when it’s winter
and hopeless?

why do they
leave when
we need
them most?

get emotional
stitch me up
rinse
repeat

happy holidays
let the worry
creep through
the greenery

drape some
guilt on the tree
wrapped in twinkling
strings of panic
cranberry flavored
family fights

anxiety but
make it festive

depression but
make it seasonal

could i get a
butterfly down here?

just some kind of
hopeful flutter
a dog
a needle
anything to
grasp onto

just to get
through
december
find a butterfly
on a ransacked
holiday shelf
70% off and
picked over

get emotional
stitch me up

something is
very wrong

depression
but make it seasonal

You died and it's something that I don't like to remember.
You won't be with me again on the 25th of December.
Nine Christmases ago was the last Christmas that I spent with you.
When it comes to your death, I wish I could say that it isn't true.
You were the most unselfish person I've ever known, you loved to share.
You wanted me to be happy and it was wonderful to know how much you cared.
You gave giant print Bibles to people while you lived.
You were so very special because you loved to give.
It's very sad because we can't be together on Christmas ever again.
Merry Christmas, Mom, you must be having a ball up there in Heaven.

eat family sized mashed potatoes.
cry.
thanksgiving.

I love you
Even though
My dear,
My dear
I know
It's wrong for both of us
And I'd rather hurt you
Now
Instead of doing
What we
Both of us
Want to
Only to destroy
Destroy
Each other
Down the road
Even so
I can't get you out of my head
I wish
I wish
Things
Were
Different
Different
And that we were different
People
And sometimes
I wish
All we were
Was
Passing
Strangers
On a busy street
Instead of a
Desperate
Almost
And
A hopeful
Maybe

Thanksgiving is almost here,
annoying school bells have stopped ringing.
Turkeys are huddling, out of sight,
and the garbage men are singing.

We’re beginning to prep side dishes,
slicing, dicing, mashing, peeling,
and I’m smiling ‘cause I feel myself
swept up in holiday feelings.

I hope that Macys is ready
for their seasonal parade.
We’ll be watching as we start to cook
the banquet that we’ve made.

I’m wishing everyone plenty,
as we shelter in our homes.
On this tame 2020 holiday,
that we’re spending home alone.