still coming home for christmas

I hate Christmas. I hate Christmas more than I hate your cold feet in the mornings.

I hate Christmas more than I hate those phone calls. You know which ones.

The ones that make you look at me as if you will never see me again, gods I hate that look.

I hate Christmas so much, that is why its two days to it, and there is no tree with blinking lights.

I love to bake, but I will not bake on Christmas.

I have not baked any Christmas treats during the festivities for three years.

I have not gone home for Christmas for three years.

I will not even drink eggnog on or about Christmas. Because I hate Christmas.

I hate Christmas so much…more than I hate it when I hear her name. oh we all know

How much I cannot stand her. Especially during Christmas.

I hate Christmas because you, my love, are not here,

Where are your dastardly cold feet on Christmas morning?

Where is your drunk smile over a glass of brandy on Christmas Eve? When we sit and think of three years ago when everything was bright

Fuck I hate the smell of pine on Holidays, I hate it so much I throw out your aftershave.

Its because I hate Christmas that I am still in bed.

Not you.

Never you.

You ruined Christmas.

With your loud absence.

Thinking of you, always hurts,

Because I never know when you will show up on my door step again.

I wonder if you miss me on Christmas. With your wife.

With your arms full of a warm body.

With my arms empty of you.

Tomorrow, it will be okay,

I will remember that you are not mine,

And it will be okay,

And I will see you when you come knocking, you always knock, even though it does not matter

And I will smile when you take out your bottle of brandy, because you will not listen otherwise,

And it wont hurt so much when you play that record

“so if you have a minute why don’t we go,

Talk about it somewhere only we know”

And you will tell me about your week….its never more than a week.

And I will listen, and you will smile because you know I will always listen.

But not this week, this is Christmas, and I hate it,

Even when I know I am the one who didn’t show up for Christmas…three years ago

I know it must be hard to sit and wait for me all over again.

But you know I was coming home for Christmas.

I just didn’t see the truck loose control.

Just you…and a blinding light.

Three years ago, I was late for Christmas.

Three years late,

A few more years await.

I hate Christmas.

Because I know you will always remember I never made it back home.