The house seemed bleaker, darker than usual
that wet, cold and earthy Christmas Day.
It was more than obvious that you spent your night
cleaning the house to a compulsive degree.
A small 'click' of the door sounded throughout the house to announce
that Christmas Morning has started, all that
could be heard after that small click was hurried rustling and sloshing
from the room you were occupying.
I already knew that sound, it was more than obvious.
I rounded the corner to find you sitting on the
elegant cherry-red couch you just purchased this year.
Your eyes looked heavy and your face looked swollen.
You smiled at me as I was about to burst into tears
because the bitter, musty stench of the demon that
haunts dreams, loved ones, many realities.
You giggled slightly as you quickly put your thin,
blonde hair into a small bun on the top of your head.
Resting your hands on your knees, cocking your head to
the side, you said,
"Merry Christmas, baby girl..."
