🖤 A whimsical chapter from my holiday EP 🖤

Not everyone dreams in white.

If you feel it, you’re already in it:

🖤 𝙎𝙥𝙤𝙩𝙞𝙛𝙮: https://open.spotify.com/artist/2VCdgYo4f5iSIcLouGV89j

🖤 𝙔𝙤𝙪𝙏𝙪𝙗𝙚: https://www.youtube.com/@AlmaBlairDFP

🖤 𝙏𝙞𝙠𝙏𝙤𝙠: https://www.tiktok.com/@almadfp

- 𝙖𝙡𝙢𝙖 🖤 𝙗𝙡𝙖𝙞𝙧 -

⎺⎺⎺⎺⎺⎺⎺⎺⎺⎺⎺⎺⎺⎺⎺⎺⎺⎺⎺⎺⎺⎺⎺⎺⎺⎺⎺⎺⎺⎺⎺⎺

The calendar turned with a hiss and a flare,

snow kissed the ground like it knew I'd be there.

I don't wait for bells or sleighs to ring

I start the season when I sing.

They lit the tree, I lit the match,

wrapped the world in velvet ash

He whispered peace, I breathed in flame,

and wore the smoke like it knew my name.

They deck the halls in tinsel lies

I thread my truth through silent nights.

Crimson kisses, velvet crime,

I make cold look like it’s mine.

They want angels, sweet and light

but I show up and spark the night.

Wrap your rules in silver bows,

I’ll still wear red like no one knows.

Call it sin or call it reason

I am the start. I am the season.

He offered vows in candy cane,

all sugar, none of it sane.

Said, “Be good,” I said, “Define,”

and sipped my truth like mulled red wine.

While they rehearsed their hymns and grace,

I left a lipstick kiss on fate.

The snowstorm bowed, the wind took sides

even winter loves a girl who rides.

If silence counts as holiday cheer,

I’ll toast too loud, then disappear.

Crimson kisses, velvet crime,

I make cold look like it’s mine.

They want angels, sweet and light

but I show up and spark the night.

Wrap your rules in silver bows,

I’ll still wear red like no one knows.

Call it sin or call it reason

I am the start. I am the season.

I don’t hang stockings, I stitch my name

in thread that sparks and spells unclaimed.

You’ll find no penance on my tree

just truth and scent of evergreen.

And if I’m wrong for how I shine,

then baby, wrong feels close to divine.

Crimson kisses, velvet crime,

I make cold look like it’s mine.

They want angels, sweet and light

but I show up and spark the night.

Wrap your rules in silver bows,

I’ll still wear red like no one knows.

Call it myth or call it treason

I was made for crimson season.

It’s not your white December dream

I am the fire beneath the gleam.

It’s a crimson season.