pine tree scented candle


had a poem
about Christmas
but i never
got the spirit
to write it

something ’bout
the fake tree
and the pine tree
scented candle
we lighted

something ’bout
how family
used to feel
like family
back when gifts
still got me
excited

i would fuck
around with metaphor
and tippy toe around
what i wanted to say

like how my
plastic tree
felt more real than
family, the one that
had forgotten me

it’s probably my fault
or the divorce

just feels like
it’s my fault
when i talk about it
instead of hold my breath
and walk around it

’til it builds up
in my chest
and burns hotter
than the candle lighted

the one that vaguely
smells like Morristown
and the Christmas tree
we slept around
before presents
and after dinner.

“pine tree scented candle”
©Steven Cuenca

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