(things that get lost under) mistletoe

you speak to the shaking sky
as if the flakes were friends
and family in disguise

some days you’re so thin you might snap
at wrists and ankles, crack your
elbows, your thighs.

i wish there was more
of you
to adore

love’s not a size

i wish there was more
of you
to fall for

and less of me to despise