I once loved a boy with flowers in his mane, roses of gold and silver

Cheerful smiles on his face yet with this harsh sort of kindness

I would wait all day curled at the doorstep of his house

Baskets and bouquets, love letters held between index and thumb

I would sit in my silence there, waiting for my love to come home

On sunnier days he would come and greet me warmly

He would press daffodils into the palm of my hand gently

I would grasp unto his sleeve in vain so that maybe he would stay

Yet i couldn’t speak of it, not a word

Lips sealed like an envelope, i would lay my head on his shoulder until inevitable dawn

Yet on sunny days of morrow, he would not come back to me

which eventually turned weeks, turned months, until snow fell on our patio

mournfully, my love has grown past the need for me

Misery, its origins having sewn its seeds between my heart strings

having left me empty handed and broken hearted once more

Pressed flowers in the pages of my heart

My sweet winter valentine