Why Masochists Celebrate Valentine's Day
I wanted to write you
the same love poem today,
but I forgot the words.
As I began to
etch them onto paper,
my fingertips grew
heavy, and
nostalgia crept in
like a lonely cadaver
on a stainless steel platter.
I've been writing
the same poem for
too many years,
and the butterfly of my heart
has finally folded
in
on
itself.
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