You made a poet fall in love with you
And expected her not to write sonnets about your eyes
Haikus about the way you kissed her in the moonlight
Expected the fire in her heart not to inspire couplets
You made a poet fall in love with you, and when you left
Expected her not to write pages about the ache in her chest
Write a soliloquy dedicated to her tears
Expected her not to feel every gut wrenching moment of the pen hitting paper like your words hit her in the most vulnerable places of her mind.
You made a poet fall in love with you, and you expected her to be silent.
That is no fault of hers.

There he lies motionless
Face down in the sand
His three years old life
Snuffed out by the surging waves
Victim of the exodus
Fleeing a world
Pervaded by mindless violence and bloodshed
Nobody to show a little love
Valentine comes too late
Once again.