Another Lonely Day

Other homes lit up.
I can almost smell
the turkey, yams,
and other festive foods
I’ve never appreciated.

Looks like fun though.

Other people laughing
within the comfort
of their walls.
I can almost feel
the bliss they exude.

Almost,
but not quite.

There’s a different hue
cast over the sky.
Familiar, yet cold,
unrelenting;
with talons that
pierce my skin,
pierce my core,
pierce my poetry.
My clichés of hearts,
souls, and other
immaterial bullshit.