Christmas is always greener on the other side… Or is it?
A short poem about Christmas when you’re the wrong side of the tinsel wall. (Contains swearing.)
I risk death by tinsel strangulation when I reveal that Christmas isn’t so much the “season of goodwill” as the season of one-upmanship and exclusion. WARNING: risk of choking on your mulled wine.
A prose poem about my Christmases past… Feeling special, wanted, loved, just on that one day a year.