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Delyla Nunez Feb 2021
One year, it was rectangular boxes with our names.
$2 cards for a pack of hologram puppies or superhero’s.
Writing out each name that was your favorite.

Another year, we are grown buying little shot bottles.
Gigantic stuffed bears and favorite candy to add.
A hope for a kiss for the hard work at the end of the day surprising them.

Yet every year it’s the same.
And I’ve been okay with that,
Coming to terms that I will never have the true Valentine I so desperately deserve...
jas Feb 2018
roses are not red and violets are not blue
just unlucky to how I met you
a day of love and despair
a day of annoyance and how love isn't fair
hurtful words written in my mind
because I couldn't bring myself to buy a card I liked
overpriced chocolate and overpriced dates
expecting so much for just one day
disappointment at the end, that isn't me
for those single people who hate on love or just looking for a laugh
Beinghonest Feb 2016
To those enjoying today with their other half,
I hope you get to celebrate next year's valentine's with the same person.

To those who are single,
Then welcome to the club,
My name's Bob,
So let's mingle.

To those with broken hearts,
Do not fear, forget your ex's lies,
For sooner or later someone else will make that heart race.
You won't notice it's poor condition, when you stare at their face
And give it to your new crush, while gazing at their eyes.
...

-just being honest
Ottar Feb 2015
Not tasting like affliction,
Not looking with reflection,
Needing a new affectation,

Unable to keep either hand
off
that remote control,
surfing from place to place,
Finding varying degrees of
un-
kempt hair,
Channeling, "Chocolate,
My Chocolate,"
The darker the better,
silky smooth
mousse, melts, making
merriments,
for the senses,

These are a few, of some favorite things
yet nothing compared to what
red wine brings to the table,
with nothing on,
as it unveils the light,
as added swirl to glass,
the round of the cup in the palm
of an open hand,
reminds one of...
past...bottles lying about the place,
a few at a time, Listen...

To be true, only hearing about
drugs as recreation, or
******* substances of
abuse, strange mystery to me,
as I am high on life,
so I cannot write about
what I don't know,

On anger, the hurt, on self-loathing, sings
a call from the Halls of the mountain King,
as printed voices tell in clear,
of battle scars,
of toxic people,
influence,

on lives that matter much,
much more than you know, I care for y'all,
but this ends, a tortured
free
verse,
freed,
for now I must feed my addiction,
"Open up, beautiful, here is another dark chocolate wine dipped cherry, no, no,
not from the bowl, but from my naked lips...
This is late so sorry, the stuff of life can knock the ink from my veins and pen from my hand ...and make simple things complicated...now to poetry...then?????

— The End —