At a fireplace.
No thoughts
Run my mind.
The warmth
From the flames
Thaws the ice
From my bones.
A sense of coziness
Reaches my soul.
I look up, gazing
Into nothingness.
Then…
A cold breeze
Enters my guts,
Freezing me.
A terrible feeling
Of anxiety,
Shakes my knees
And my whole body.
Thoughts shooting
Up and down,
Making it impossible
For me to think.
And even though
The fire is still on,
No warmth
Can be felt.
Only the sense
Of distress,
Of unsteadiness
That you cause.
You.
The one who
Hurt me.
Too many times.
And now you
Are back.
To haunt me.
To cause
Me pain
Once more.
My Ghost of
Christmas Last.
Cátia Ribeiro
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