Letter to Santa
Hi Santa!
You're here?
I seem to have grown up,
And I haven't written letters to you for years.
But now I'm pouring milk into your cup,
and putting some cookies out, and saying "Cheers!"
I totally stopped dreaming about things –
They can be achieved, and gotten, and bought, and – thrown.
I haven't got much, but I am my own king,
My kingdom's inside my room, and my bed's my throne.
This year, Santa, I have but a single wish;
The lines won't rhyme, so the poem is ending now.
I'm being destructive, dull, and disaster-ish,
I'd like you to teach me, Santa, to teach me how
How not to fall in love like it's my last day on the Earth,
How not to fall in love like I'm gonna carry on loving until I die and even after,
How not to fall in love like love will never knock on my door again,
How not to fall in love like I have never felt this way before,
How not to fall in love like if I fail to love something terrible is sure to happen,
How not to fall in love at all,
Or, probably, how to find one to love like this.