"Spread the love,"

The poster says.

But what if there is no love to spread?

My pain envolpes me like a web

The spider is me

It's all in my head.

I watch the girls smile,

Eating chocolate from their sweethearts.

But what part of the heart is even sweet?

I watch them get flowers,

Murdered plants cut at their stems.

Their sweet blood juice flows out of their green veins

We stuff them in bouquets filled with sickly sweet rhymes

From a time when our hearts could care

From a time when we weren't bare skeletons.

Do tell me

What love is there to spread?