The
tree is up,
but the lights don't blink
Just half-hearted glow,
like it's tired of pretending
I told my family I need it quiet this year
So it's me,
the radiator hiss In a bottle of something cheap
I drag the cardboard box from underneath the bed
The one labeled,
do not open until you're over her
Spoiler,
I never got over her Tape snaps like a small gunshot
And Christmas Eve begins No stockings hung,
no carols off
Just dust and the sound of my own heart coughing
I'm unboxing memories instead of presents
Pulling out pieces of us wrapped in
old receipts Your life in a movie stub,
your perfume in
a scarf Every ticket,
every note,
every photograph
Is a gift I can't return and wouldn't even if I could
I sit on the floor, surrounded by two years ago
Holding the only Christmas that still feels like home
While the clock counts down to a morning I'll spend alone
Here's the ornament we bought in the mountain town
The one you dropped and crashed,
still hung it anyway
Here's the playlist QR code you drew on a napkin
I scan it sometimes, just to watch it fail
Here's the sweater you left,
sleeves too short for me
I'll wear it anyway, arms cold, heart colder
Here's the letter I never sent,
dear you,
I'm still not okay
Folded so many times, the crease is cut
The radiator clinks like it's trying to speak
But even the pipes gave up on me this
week Unboxing memories instead of presents
Regifting myself the nights I can't forget
Your handwriting on the back of a boarding
pass Still says see you soon like a promise that
never passed I lighted no candles,
I hang no stars
Just sit in the wreckage of who we are
And pretend that tears are only paper cuts
From handling a love too sharp enough to open me up
Midnight comes quiet as a thief Steals another year of belief
I find the tiny velvet box at the bottom
Empty now, ring long return
But the indentation of where it lives Still fits my thumb perfectly
I press it there like a bruise I can't stop picking
And whisper Merry Christmas to the dark
Like you might still be listening
No bells,
no bells,
no midnight mass Just me and a box of the past
I'll pack it all
away by dawn, tape it shut with shaking hands
Promise myself next year I'll throw it
out But we both know how that story ends
So I'll keep unboxing memories instead of
presents Until the cardboard dissolves,
or my heart does
Whichever gives up first,
the radiator finally goes quiet
The room is colder than the snow I leave the box open on the floor
Like a manger nobody adores And sleep among the ghosts of us
On a Christmas Eve that never really was