Holidays

I think I’ll get a Christmas tree this year,
Even though there won’t be presents beneath it,
Because you don’t come here anymore.
I think I’ll string it with lights,
Just to pretend
That my home is a happy place.
The sun still shines through the window
But it seems dimmer than before
And night comes too quick these days.
I’m hoping for snow,
Enough to bury me in,
So the outside matches the inside,
Cold and devoid of color.
I’m hoping you’ll visit once,
Just for the holidays,
I’ll put on a fake smile,
And a sweater.
We can avoid talking about the past,
And pretend the future’s bright,
And then you’ll leave again,
And the hole will get wider,
And deeper,
Until I can’t take it anymore.
Then I’ll hope for spring.