The Return.

Moments like these
where glimpses into
what has past
what should not be present
what will not be future

and yet

it's Halloween all over
again and again
Christmas sweaters
stained in sticky ketchup
and you can't
stop
it

and as you sink
feeling the stickiness
drag you down
into the depths
watching as others
decorated trees
lit candles
sang songs
had family dinners

all you see
is the Nothing looming
all you want to do
is curl up
and
cry

drip drop
drip drip drop

like the sound of her blood
oozing onto the concrete

and you awaken
to a dark room
and whisper,
"Merry Christmas, Mother."