I want to show my friends what I write here
But I am filled with fear
at what they would say
or think
about me writing online and not with ink
but here for everyone to see
and I know the things they would read
would change how they look at me
because they don't know everything
and they really don't know me

when
there's no one
i can talk to

when
even the moon
is gone

i grab
a pen
a piece of paper

and write

The Christmas tree is vacant of what
make it jolly, bauballs  hang in remanence
                      with tarnished broken gleam.
Disused needles litter the floor,
  careful where you tread take care.  

The cat hangs loosely paper thin flesh
             gaunt from the crimson tinsel
throttled around its physique...

The Turkey on the table a corpse of
                            happier times..

Now a prison of destitute flesh
   like paper unwrote upon..
              But it says everything.

Presents litter the floor wrapped in
regrets.. all open, only the bones of
                   lost promises lay at the bottom.

Christmas time is only 364 days away,
   And this will all be here,

so will we,
                                 no one has found us yet..