A Void

The void between our wishes

And the reality we face

Has never seemed greater

Then when sat around this table,

A crowd of faces linked by tinsel and blood,

While the ideal me waves from a mile away.

Bloated on turkey and stale conversation

The pack turns their inquisitive gaze

On me.  Questions launched from all directions

As my hands grasp blindly for a white flag.

“I don’t know” spills from my lips in a constant litany,

Until my shame hangs, heavy, in the frosted air.

A mile away, the ideal me,

A little less wary, a little more loved,

Turns away and continues onwards

Until the mile has become two

And the image of what I ought to be

Looms large as the pack move on.