Puerile

So I'm here, and it's Christmas. I am not able to travel the 500 + miles to see my family. My in-laws are being royal douchebags to the nth degree. I did not get to spend even one hour of the day with the husbeast. I got to spend the day with the dear roommate, who as lovely as he is, kind of makes my poor little heart ache sometimes. It's one thing than another than the first and back to the second. I wish I could sort it all out and just LOVE, but that shit ain't gonna happen if not now than ever.

And so bad, fifth grade style poetry results.

Whispers of the raindrops,
so deceptively warm for December.
Figures of the nights flash,
just before my eyes remember.
Am I dreaming, am I awake?
How can you tell,
How do you know?
Whether the spring rain
is going to turn to snow?
Just let it go. Let it go. Let it go.