Holiday On Ice.

Now all we have’s the memory.

I’ll keep the one to forget

if you keep the one to remember.

The one never to forget,

the ones kept best from afar,

and the occasional Holiday on ice.

silent is the night

Happiness &

Sadness

bleed

into one

single

droplet, which

slowly

falls

from cheek

to chin, while

the sun sets

and small houses

glow

I’m reminded

it’s not over

yet —

silent is the night —

it’s still

so

far

from

the beginning.

your dying

Did you burn yourself out

like a flame wick under wax?

Or were you just here for the holiday?

Is that why you smelled vanilla?

I don’t have a match that’s long enough

to strike you from this far,

with another year upon us.

I just kind of smelled your dying.