a very potter christmas

we all hunger for a story

of gold and hope

of despair and tragedy

a story that somehow always ends up happy

empty but full

smiles but tears

where good conquers all

if i wasnt such a complicated mess

would that change the stars that i hope you see in your sky as i see in mine?

peering through eyes

clouded by age and anger

bags of sadness weigh down lids

and rings of smoke circle the dim light of life

keep them closed to the pins and needles

and the empty seats

and quiet nights

its whiskey soaked words that slip into ears

worming to cores

pure at once but about to become rotten

this life is a cryptic story

phrasebooks fail to help saying why i get shivers

just because i dont know the answers

to everything

to anything.