06; MISLEADING MISTLETOE
your other shadow smiles at me like the lopsided portrait of a medieval woman, hanging above your fireplace. below the ancient mahogany, the flames dance around the white lies you gift me every december. listen, can you hear the first snow of the year outside? listen, falling flake by flake, gently piling and covering traces of the art of our backstabbing. it's just a matter of how you look at it really. to me, it looks like crimson buds sprouting against the white backdrop. spring is coming, it seems.
YOU ARE READING
ABANDONED AMUSEMENT PARK
Poetrywords etched onto the metal railings of the creaking ferris wheel
