Valentine Verse

Will you be my Valentine? I’ll pick my own flowers, drink my own wine. The red of the wine like the blood of a saint I’ll be a lion, circling the ring, Slay me, I’m starved anyway, It’s only a matter of time. Ah, for the Roman way of life, When you can buy yourself a wife, Or sell yourself as a slave when The “good life” is out of reach. The Vatican will have to forgive me, Saints Peter and Paul are not on my mind, Only a saint such as I could find, With mahogany skin and rose petal lips, Dreaming of their velvet touch in between sips, Fantasy aspires to romance, And becomes its slave.