Your shirt, after you have worn it. I want to unwrap you......you are my present, you are my Christmas. This is what I would say, if it were more. If it were real between the truck driver and I.
It is dark and cold. Cabin fever has settled in. Fortunately there is no drone of carols, no cards no gifts. After the drama of last year the husband is at work.
He gave me a card before he left, nothing personal, just a signature, as though signing a document.
No worries, I am long past loving him.
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