I love the holidays
she used to say. Christmas
is my time
of year.
but of course it was, she got
all that supply
and attention
she desperately needs.
the gifts, the cards,
the love notes and photos
pinned to that heart
carved into a tree.
Christmas, she said,
is wonderful, because it's
all about me.
everybody forgives and
forgets who I am for a little
while.
my secret life is safe
and I can pretend to be who
they want
me to be.
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