A/N: Very Kimya Dawson. Language warning.
Clara
Have a good Christmas without me, Doctor. I hope you get your hands on a turkey that's bigger than your ego (no easy feat, but you are a Time Lord), I hope you have more fun with your new companion and new face than you did with me.
I hope you step into the fireplace, Doctor
Watch it burn you, in the same way our love of adventures (each other) did,
But love the simple flame.
Love the agony you feel.
Learn to love being this way,
And you'll learn how I felt.
I hope she breaks your hearts, Doctor
In the same nonchalant way you broke mine,
Over and over again, head over heels over soul.
Learn to love being this way,
And you'll learn how I felt.
I hope your TARDIS breaks down on you, Doctor
In the same way my moral grounds did.
Crack, shatter, fall.
Learn to love being this way,
And you'll learn how I felt.
So Dear Santa, here is my Christmas list.
I want:
Some kind of way to not feel alone, mind block.
Some kind of vice to drown my tears in, old Scotch.
Some kind of heart that won't get broken, won't succumb,
Some kind of feeling that takes away these, go numb.
A blade, two blades, three blades, four.
A slash on each goddamned wrist to be my paramour.
Because on the first day of Christmas, I had no true love to waste the morning
With, fuck your Hollywood romance, your nights by the fire, your soft kisses when the sun was still dawning.
On the second day of Christmas, I found my dad's bottles of jack,
I drank every single one, and I'm not putting any back.
On the third day of Christmas, I just lay there, mind and body suppressed
With spirits, and sure enough my darling, I soon forgot the rest.
That's all I have for these holidays; I hope you'll find them nice
Enough, tomorrow morning in your bathtub, you will find a nice surprise.
I'll tear out my throat like you tore out my soul,
You laugh nervously, "That's fucked up," she says,
No darlings, this is your final death toll.
So I took your new companion's silk hair ribbon, I wrapped it 'round my throat.
Like a bloodied Christmas tree, you walked in, screamed like a boat's
Final passengers, waiting out the storm.
You think this is unhealthy? These past six months, it's been the norm.
I took your brand new razor blades and slashed both of my cheeks,
Crying for everything you and I used to be, (weak)
I looked at my self in the mirror for the first time in a while,
At least the last time I see this face, it's locked in an eternal smile.
It haunts your dreams, I know it does,
Stop lying to yourself.
I told you so, I told you, love
Hope nothing fares well
For you,
Nothing dares to leave.
Nothing dares to breathe in your black light
I certainly don't dare to do so myself this cursed night.
