Emptiness Of My Cold Heart

Emptiness Of My Cold Heart
© Surazeus
2018 10 17

Without the tree of gifts, without the song
of broken hearts, without the spicy drink,
how will I know the season of the snow
that freezes my soul before I know why?

Under the radar, quick through the back door,
shattered on the floor of nowhere, blind eye
turned from the sight of theft, beyond the hour
we close doors to keep the silence away.

The overall view of something realized,
the picture crooked on the wall, the light
hiding truth in shadows we should ignore,
so I want more of this forgetful drink.

Another holiday of empty rituals
played for the camera that sees through my mask,
when the alarm rings, I get home from work
too weary to participate, because.

This puzzle of the bridge and country house
where I fantasize I live with more you
is too complicated for me to finish,
fragments of memories I choose to ignore.

I see how people interact when wine
sparkles in candlelight, after the party
of laughing children, when my favorite show
on television gets canceled again.

I bought two hundred Christmas cards that show
children playing around the tall sparkling tree,
but I would rather be the owl who hides,
so I never send the cards to my friends.

Alone on Christmas Eve by the stone hearth
I stare at emptiness of my cold heart
and laugh at silly cliche of that image
as I drink the wine I wish would kill me.