The Hidden Life of Love (A poem for Kierkegaard)

The valentine card I made for you
Was buried under twenty-two.
Some were bigger than my own;
I saw one with little rhinestones.
My valentine was much more plain.
I did not buy it and I forgot my name.
I drew it out on plain white paper,
And wrote your name in big block letters.
I wanted you to feel special,
And sharing the card made my heart revel.
But after you left the class with your pile,
I found my card on the floor tile.
My red and pink heart looked very sad
With the color bleeding out of the lines I had.
The corners were crumpled, and there was a foot mark
stamped on top of of my loving artwork.
I picked it up and brushed it clean,
And put it back where it would be seen.
On top of your desk, my heart now lays,
So you’ll see it again in three days.
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1 Comment (+add yours?)

  1. SimplySage
    May 01, 2013 @ 05:30:09

    Awwww…sweet sadness.

    Reply

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