i feel cold inside
because every year i forget
that decorating the tree is my least favorite day of the year
and i always hate it
but i continually seem to erase my memory of that,
hands stained with sap and fingers smelling of pine
i hate this.
because my sister doesn't understand the meaning of family
and maybe i'm always null and void
but at least i try
my eyes crinkle like old tinsel
and my fingers bleed like broken ornaments,
with lungs like crushed christmas lights
and i shudder my breath
through shards of glass
and the dreams we used to have as children.