Figures on screen.

Currency drifts, my palms stiff.

Worlds bought without me—

I stand empty-handed.

Voices thread pixels.

Faces warm, celebration.

I nod, I hold nothing;

Joy belongs elsewhere.

Coins I never keep.

Letters sealed, edges worn.

Tree dressed in light— 

I linger, walls silent.

Carols pierce distance.

Tunes foreign, unclaimed.

I whisper, hollow—

An outsider, always.

I press the screen close.

Their eyes shine; chest tight

I give all,

Take nothing home.

Night waits again.

Hope jammed in pockets.

Christmas slips past—

I remain, shadowed.

“Merry Christmas,”

Whispered to the dark.