Valentines Day
I hate February 14th.
Don’t give me affection, attention, or love.
Leave me alone.
I’d rather be cut by my own thorns than have my blossom crushed under the weight of abandonment.
February 14th is when flowers and hearts are exchanged.
I am a flower but don’t you dare touch me. Stay away from my heart.
For years I poisoned my own soil. I watered it with blood. I fertilized it with insults. The flower that grew was a twisted thing that wilted in the sunlight.
So, as soon as February 14th came, it was easy to pluck from the ground. He put it in a vase.
The blossom was out of the soil but it was already dying.
Discarded
Fears rekindled
My construction paper heart was cut with a razor.
But I still love him.
It’s so stupid.
February 14th has become stupid.
Life must go on. He was an unfortunate pothole in the road. A mosquito bite, a scraped knee, a papercut.
But if you call my heart, you’ll get a busy signal.
I am hung up like a sodden winter coat, like a crayon drawing on a fridge, like laundry on a clothesline.
I just want a hug but don’t touch me.
I just want to know that I am loved but I won’t believe it.
I just want respect but I hate myself.
I just want to have company but leave me alone.
I just hate February 14th.
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