a christmas bundled tightly in a bottle,
no money to waste,
and surely no happiness to spare.
but it's okay because there's always next time,
a time where this bottle isn't glued,
and a time where this family isn't broken.
broke in funds and broke in love.
maybe a time will come when i don't get the scraps,
the leftover love, half used by other children.
maybe a time, and maybe again.
my only gift for christmas is a box neatly wrapped of maybes.
