Roses are red
Violets aren't blue
This is a Valentine's
Poem for you

Your subtle smiles
Your sound advice
I can't find anything
To say about your eyes

Your love for books
Your fondness for novelty
At the top of my mind
Is your streak of spontaneity

How you know when to speak
How you shamelessly stare
How like the wandering wind
You're neither here nor there

I like your propriety
And your occasional cheek
Not to mention my dear
You're just as much of a geek

The way you cheer
At the scoring a goal
The way you cheer
At the end of a play
The fact that both cheers
Are cheered the same way

How your fingers dance
Upon any sturdy surface
How you predict the song
That's been left in my head
How when I look at you
"All the world drops dead".

This one is for him
who does not yet exist
I wonder if you realised
This was a sly sort of list

If the poem fits
Then what more can I say
But my love, my light
Happy Valentine's Day.

Billowing in the breeze
They swirl around her like
Scarlet wisps of smoke
She grips them forcefully
And turns and turns.
Turning Turning
Turning.
Faster
Faster Faster.
Her eyes bear straight
Wide and hollow
They cannot mask her fear.
Turning Turning
Turning.
Round and Round
and Round.
Everything becomes a flicker to her.
And she becomes a flicker to everything.
Flicker Flicker
Flicker.

And then the smell of iron.
A cry of pain.
A burnt-out candle.

Imagine a road.
That led to anywhere you wanted it to lead to. Anywhere.
Even to a place from storybooks and make-belief.
Even to a place you made inside your head.

Now imagine a person.
Walking down that road.
Or running. Or flying. Or zig-zagging up and down in vague caterpillar-like motions.
But there's a person. And there's a road.
And the road leads to someplace else.
And Someplace Else is far away.
And Far Away is where you need to be.

My warm breath pierces the cold air
As I blow longing into a you
Who's not really there.

Today I decided to make a dress.
I'd seen others do it.
Figured I'd give it a try.
So I laced Predictability on neatly
And hemmed the Defensiveness in tight.
Stitched up the Strength, the Sarcasm and
The Empty Stare in a nice, perfect line
With pearly white Laughs to match.
Then I ironed it with puffs of Indifference,
And hung it up to admire.
It was nice.
Decent.
Normal.
Okay.

I put my dress on and walked out into the world.
I smiled at all the right places and frowned to the silent beat.
And then when I got home I took it off and cried.

I think I understand what it means
to be 'heavy-hearted' now.
It's when gravity is the strongest
at the core of your heart,
and it forces you lower,
and lower down until you forget
what it feels like
to be standing up in the first place.

I shouldn't have cried this hard but I did.
I shouldn't have kept this quiet but I did.
It shouldn't have hurt this much but it does.
I should've been stronger but I'm not.