No Ho Ho Ho

My Christmas cheer is like the clanking shot glasses of whiskey, the after effect burns your throat as your face turns sour.

The only grinch who stole Christmas is the man who stole my heart and won’t put it back under the tree.

My stockings aren’t filled with presents rather cold feet that used to be warmed by his body.

I hope Kris Kringle brings me coal this year; I’ll light a fire, melt the ice, uncovering something I haven’t found yet.

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