Letter to a Lover, From a Mama's Boy

[burrealist]

I’m waiting for the holiday to amplify my mood; (What holiday? You don't tell us until the second stanza. Perhaps saying "a holiday" will enhance the elusive mood amplified by the absence of whatever holiday you're alluding to.)
the change is taking longer than it should. (This line is so basic. The mood is not amplified. Holidays and seasonal changes go hand-in-hand. This is an opportunity to use metaphorical or symbolic language to exemplify a seasonal change taking it's time. Maybe you can use colors: orange and brown changing their shade to red and green. This second line can remain as elusive as the first, and still suggest the holiday you're going to eventually refer to us.)
And even though your relatives are having lots of fun, (You've changed. You have now become me. I don't know why my relatives are so relevant. We are still talking about your relatives, I hope. maybe you can say "my relatives" to remain on-topic.)
I am not feeling even slightly good. (Again, this is very blunt and yet you have overlooked an opportunity to use striking language to elude to the Christmas holiday in the next stanza. How can your bad feelings relate to the jolly joys of an upcoming Christmas? Christmas comes in the next line, so maybe it's come too soon? This is your poem, so don't underrate your ability to show us what you are really feeling. And do not underrate your ability to stay focused on the subject-matter. There is a whole world of holiday material at your disposal- use it. Abuse it. Make it ironic and sarcastic.)

The Christmas tree is glowing with a headache-causing hue. (Now that's more like it!)
The cookies have way too much cinnamon. (Does the cinnamon churn your stomach like the holiday choir's screeching?)
And every time aunt Lisa laughs I feel like I will die; (Maybe Lisa's screeching is worse. This is hilarious right here. I want to know why her laughing induces suicidal tendencies in you.)
her voice, to me, is a carcinogen. (So here we have an answer. Carcinogen. Causes cancer. Christmas is a kind of cancer. Also, cancer, carcinogen, and cinnamon all use hissy "C" sounds that amplify the irritation you're feeling. Not to mention the rhyme and consonance between cinnamon and carcinogen, connecting the two together. This whole stanza works its wonders. I wish the first stanza worked this way, too.)

I chose to leave this letter so you would know where I am; (I didn't know you were writing a letter. But it's in the title- silly me. I think the fact that this is a letter hasn't been realized in the body of the poem until now. Perhaps opening the whole poem with a suggestion that this is a letter will clarify any confusion felt by dimwitted people like me. Maybe even saying "Dear, dear... Oh dear." Something witty and sarcastic to capture the feeling in a halmark remark.)
I wouldn’t ever want you to feel blue. (That's sweet.)
Forgive me - I’m a coward - and I don’t deserve your love. (Oh, how sentimental.)
Please tell aunt Lisa that it’s her not you. (I like this line.)

Maybe there is something wrong with me. (Stop feeling sorry for yourself.)
There’s a decent chance I won’t recover.
Just like all the other men who failed to carry on, (Oh, so she's been around?)
I will go back home to live with mother. (Overall, good poem. Hopefully you'll revise each line and work on the context they each possess, then reflect how each line's context hold the poem together as a whole.)

-BW BRINE