A slant moonlight blessed our snowy predawn courtyard this valentine's day. Like a silent kiss, big and full, I let it guide my way. You lie asleep in our bed; a warmth I'm lucky enough to share for a few hours everyday. With you, my love stays home, tucked away under white satin sheets. How carefully you walk, as you cross my mind. Never running, so to not leave me too fast, only allowing enough warmth to thaw me out, until your next mindful visit. Thank you for giving me the heat and passion, which feeds the fire of my life. Happy Valentine's day my love.

                                                       —
                                    Moonlit court yard snow
                              Valentines warmth can’t melt it
                                         Only you melt me
                                                       —

If cupid’s arrow found me, maybe then I would’ve known,
The unspoken poetry that lingered in my head,
Will fade in silence, forever left unsaid.
If Cupid’s arrow found me, maybe then you would’ve asked me


parallel valentines never get to touch
held the words as the letters hush
as we danced in the quiet to the echos of your heart in mine
spaces between our fingertips never intertwine

handcuffed, blinded in hindsight
but your soothing mythical kisses hold me tight
escape reality, into ambivalence prose
unveiled morning, I will love you until I decompose

enduring this serene adoration
nothing else wanted, you're my occupation
brown depths look into mine
exploring the treasured island send chills down my spine

*
hold me close for an
uncelebrated celebration
that's all it's been for me


simply it's all that it'll ever be

By: Zoulaikha

A single red rose
blooms into I love you,
as note paper confessions
fold into origami kisses.

Hearts melt like chocolate
on nervous tongues,
as the world holds its breath
when you blush and smile.

©️Lizzie Bevis

They’d fallen in love
as some young people do—
so that lust might rationally increase.

Their bright, valentine-red-blood fairly beat for love.

It’s good that we can name a thing—
describe it and classify it, so it’s out there,
fact-like, in the flimsy, indefinite poetry-verse

It was a day for it, as the sun, that most followed star,
was a carnotite paintball-splotch against a sky stitched of turquoise
and the quality of the light was sentimentally beyond reproach.

Their gallant love seemed to cast a radiance too, a bright, collateral light, which was of greater reassurance than any by-rote, muttered words.

No one denied the ambition of their love, it was both a mess and a revelation. And no one could pretend the moment was ordinary, that the atoms that spun and gripped our world together weren’t woven yet more inseparable by their union.

The greatest, alas, may choose to bless or deny that such a miracle as love, lasts.
.
.
Songs for this:
Under Your Spell by Snow Strippers
You Can Have It All by Yo La Tengo

You spirit me away to Greater Eden, /
In the redolent throes of /
Ethereal /
Romance. /

Reverie is magnified in your absence /
As I wonder upon /
Your /
Towering arms. /

Your heart is an impearled grand piano, /
Singing to me symphonically. /
Each key, weaving a tapestry /
Of the sonorities in amour. /

Beauty is your cadenza, /
As your radiant moonbeams  /
Whisk me away to /
Twilight En Amour. /

May you be mine, /
Until the stars evanesce /
From The Charred Canvas of /
The Night Sky. /

I am yours, /
From sea to shining sea /
Uttering one-thousand words in solemn prayer /
That our union may ne’er deliquesce. /

May these words imbue you /
With the ardor of ages /
That we might procure in the heat of romance, /
The silver wings to soar heavensward. /

You are my forevermore, /
You are my swansong, /
You are my euphony, /
You are my musicality. /

You are my poetry, /
You are my eternity, /
You are my whimsicality, /
You are my Ivory Knight. /

(—Se’ lah)

If love is vast, then so is grief. If love is a force, then so is the emptiness it leaves behind.

After laying down all my cards and spilling my love into words, hoping to place it somewhere other than my heart, I learned that it is simply too much; That no matter how I try to set it aside or fight it, love seeps into the smallest spaces. It spills through the cracks, demanding to be acknowledged. And every time I give it even an ounce of attention, it takes over me, growing into something bigger than myself.
I tried to outrun it, drown it in reason, bury it beneath time, but it lingers in the quiet moments until it consumes me whole. I'm left with no choice but to give in, fall to my knees, and let it take me at its mercy. I guess misery never really ends when all we do is call into voids without hearing another echo.

Could I stir fate into action by declaring that I have finally learned to hold love with careful hands? That I am better now? That maybe, I can be exactly what they need. I want to pour myself into every glass that needs filling, this time, neither too much nor too little. I want to be someone uneasy to let go of, to become the same love that haunts me in my silence. It's Valentine's day, and I have no other desires but to meet love where it stands.