It’s the longest night of the year,
The peak of the solstice.
The hair on my arms stand up and the skin
Wrapped around my emotions shiver.
I am empty handed, my hearts barren from
A bittersweet taste.
The gingerbread men crumbled my heart and
My gingerbread heart is tasteless.
The kitchen counter stained,
My tears dried.
The clock running and the moon up high.
I restlessly mourn my past, when I lived
When my gingerbread house was decorated.
The party is over.