We wave at neighbors we don't talk to until the holidays are close enough to smell
Like dinner in the oven
That's when home feels mostly like a coffin
Every morning we part company with eulogies that start with I love you
and end with I think I still do
But it's hell hiding behind smiles as artificial as the tree in the living room
Yet there isn't much room for living
with all the working going on
We do it all the time until time is all but gone
Then winter comes along
We hang the lights outside
These appearances we keep
Help us pretend to be
Something close enough to seem happy
So let's swallow our pride
Wash it go down in big gulps
Along with any hopes of ringing in the new year noisily
Because the bed does creak
And you hog the sheets
But you won't say a peep
When this house is occupied by your family
All you do is sleep
Yet these walls do bleed
from the memories of how it used to be