it's Christmas time again and i
can't help but think of how much
sweeter this sparkling cider would
taste with a pinch or a whole fucking
truckload of mistletoe, just to cure the burn
or the ache that corrodes my heart away when
you are unwrapping a new lover and tossing me
into the corner of your closet with the burned
out light bulbs...but then again,
nyctophobia means nothing to you, does it?
(i tell myself that i hate
you, i tell myself that i
fucking hate you,
and you know what?
i'm the best liar i know. )