we don’t txt anymore. not since 4 saturdays ago.

i know i turned up pissed in your old trackie bottoms but the sparkly glasses and tinsel reminded me of ur eyelashes.

when i see the fake snow on the fireplace it reminds me of your teeth and ur laugh reminds me of the bells on xmas eve.

i’m so fucking sorry for calling u at 3:15am this morning but i was in the xmas spirit

if there are angels this season i’m convinced you’d be placed on the highest tree.

i’m sick of hearing the fucking dial tone