I thought

I thought it was the coldness of rain
creeping up through my skin.
I thought it was a trend
to celebrate Christmas under the blankets.
Where all around me were flickering lights2
that reminded me of your sullen moods,
the drifting embers formed a conscience in me.
A conscious embitterment of my self-indulgence
portraying aloofness like a piece of string
that held the lights all together.

I thought the things I held
were things I held,
the things I had
were causes to celebrate.
The lights kept flickering
over forms of a hand, fingers, legs,
pillow cases and the sweetness of breath.

I would sing of pain like repetitive carols
and I would hear voices
that would remind me of the ongoing season.
Reason, not feelings,would creep up through my skin
like the coldness of rain.

I thought it was a trend to celebrate my moods
like the drifting embers of the year's end.
I thought the things I held
were the things I had.

I would need to crawl under the blankets once more.