The Day After Valentine’s

by Faith Shearin

Love is cheaper now: fifty cent stuffed animals,
deflated balloons that declare I love you

but not that much. Chocolates melting
in their thin plastic hearts. Holidays are

arbitrary pressure, aisles of red light.
I am sad the day after anything

but expired love is worse than
old Halloween or faded Easter. The bins

of passed over kittens and hollow
chocolate flowers like stubs from a movie

I saw with a boy who forgot my name.
The one who told jokes that weren't funny,

the one who was handsome but dumb. All that
old love on sale: less valuable but never free.

Comments

Post a Comment

Leave me a message!

Popular posts from this blog

Let July be July

By Morgan Harper Nichols Even here, you are growing. When August is approaching and you feel a little restless thinking about how this month might end and how this year might end and how you are supposed to start again, you are growing, you are growing, in grace courage strength. And it is okay if it does not feel like it. It is okay if there are moments where you cannot see the way you have grown, because far beneath the surface the seeds have still been sown. The ground beneath your feet is still a bed for new beginnings. So much is changing around you but you are changing, too. You are so much more than the brokenness that you were certain would define you. It has not been easy for you. You have worked so hard to be the positive one. You have given your best in areas of your life where the effort was not returned. And this has made it so hard for you to keep going, and there have been days where you were not sure if it was even possible. But after everything, here you are, just a li...
Read more