Sunday, December 31, 2017


The gifts are wrapped under the tree
bought with a love that will go unappreciated
for the lack of sight in the effects of your little words
on my skin, like daggers pulled out of the sheath
the day will open with your hand
touching my back for confirmation
you hold me just long enough
before we open the drinks up and  clink the glasses
in celebration of another year of life

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