There’s always been a wrapped gift under my Christmas tree, scent of a stranger’s hand beneath bow tied by anchor fingers  Fear and monogamy prevent their opening Ivy hogmanany creeping up new year staircase, anniversaries of silent shotguns?  It could be wedding ring soaked in mountain...

She pushes me away with disgustlike a diner who finds a hair in her meal.I am the plate.Filled with warm delights,still steaming, still trying to be wanted.Untouched and getting colder.Never to be eaten.Destined for the bin,(that graveyard of good...