By Ashton Malan

 

There’s asbestos in the air during christmas time,

They cough up “it’s just snow,” but I’m not too sure.

If you put an apple through paint of purple, could it be a plum?

Or does that only come through the growth of being one.

 

Family members 

telling me they want to read my work is the only thing I can remember

From the baby shower. 

Not the people, but their remarks. The hushed glow of hemlock on their words. 

I have been apologetically someone else, but if i 

became myself, is that not still another person? 

 

Indigo ivy creeping up my dreams, 

Who would have thought I’d end up here?

It’s christmas yet i’m stuck missing this

This feeling of knowing what to do,

 

Santa’s on his sleigh and he’s coming my way.

But he won’t be following the rules.
But I’ve been warned, I know what’s coming.

I’m not the same person I was last year.