Christmas Lights in May

My love for you is Christmas lights in May.

Pathetic, lingering, embarrassing, no longer eliciting any of the joy it had during a time when it was deemed appropriate, and seemingly able to speak for the state of mental health of those unwilling to take it the fuck down.

I continue to indulge myself in the expired, curdled, moldy, over ripened mess that is my love for you, for the same reason some people refuse to take down their Christmas lights in a timely manner: If I have loved you already longer than I should, what is a bit longer until it is that time of year when you will embrace my love again? 

If you want me to give up on us, stop your inconsistent, annual yearning for me. 

Abolish Christmas like the greedy, tiny-hearted, Grinch you are..