Midnight's Confetti
the year died quietly. I was its only witness
I wore a face for Christmas lights,
a smile, a borrowed glow.
while deep inside, the clock's hands froze
on hours I don't know.
the night goes on with empty cheer,
a ghost in sequined guise.
I watch the fireworks through the glass -
two worlds, one pair of eyes.
the loneliness grew teeth and nails,
and scratched me from within.
I held a party for the pain -
the only guest was him.
my skin still wears December’s chill,
though calendars have turned.
a lesson learned in aching bones
how loneliness has burned.
he brought no gifts but silent clouds,
and memories that sting.
we danced until the music died
and didn't change a thing.
and when the countdown struck its end,
I blew a candle out.
a wish I never voiced aloud -
just static, left in doubt.
the glasses emptied, one by one,
of drinks I couldn’t taste.
a year became a silent wound,
no urgency, no haste.
my skin still wears December’s chill,
though calendars have turned.
a lesson learned in aching bones
how loneliness has burned.
this party was a hard violence,
a forced and frail parade.
the patience of an open wound -
the sharpest blade I’ve made.
but somewhere past the window frame,
where distant laughter dies,
a different kind of morning waits
not kinder, maybe wise.
to know the dark is just a room,
not all there is to hold.
a ghost can learn to touch the light,
and slowly, grow less cold.
