blue christmas

the christmas that visited me last year,
my still being alive make it come back.
while the christmas tree that was not
trashed is glittering again this year,
i don’t hear ‘merry christmas’ from her
and the bridal chamber is still waiting
to be indulged. the dream of honey-
moon that was shattered and scattered
into the universe. the memory of promise
is still piercing my heart with a spear
head, but the picture i draw is a short
kiss and the only thing left is a touch
of her tongue. her christmas is blue-
tainted too or she is being burned red
in a room? my thirty hand motion that
is groping around the glass wall; the
fatigued phantasy of copulation; the
desire and lust that are turned blue.
blue blue blue blue christmas

Christmas Eve

Too many books to read
Too many TV shows to watch
Too many women to love
Too many poems to write
Too many things to do
Too many footprints to count

Christmas Eve
One of too many days to spend

I see her passing by
with not-so-mysterious smile
on her not-so-pretty face
with not-so-elegant steps
in all black

She might be interested in me

One of those days