Not Your Usual Valentine (re-post)


My love.
My Love.
My hearts longing,
my valentine.
Stay here on this dark and windy night
with me 
and we will talk until exhausted,
and I will tell you tales of magic and longing
and flying,
and you will whisper love words to me,
words that will shine like stars forever,
like desire itself. 
My love.
My hearts longing,
my valentine,
give me your heart,
and I will keep it safe
in this box.
My love?
You are very silent
and your face is deathly pale,
and the moon is full
and so am I. 
My love
my eternal valentine…



About chimerapoet

I write. I write a lot. A. LOT. There are times I am half blind with a sentence ricocheting off the walls of my stupid, cant be shut off to save my life, brain. I am miserable until I get it down on paper. Punch it up a bit. Usually cross out half of it. And then breathe. Relax. Only to do it all again..... But I just thought that was me. How I am. Not a writer....noooo...not me. Writers are.....writing people. People Who Write. REALLY write. Write things that matter. All grown up very important things. I am just a scribbler of sorts. And I was/am content with that....if it's true, well then....a scribbler am I. Until the thought wormed its way in to my brain (the furtive sneaky bitch) that maybe...just maybe...that is writing. My style. My strange way. But....still writing. So here I am at the dance. Not sure I know any of the moves and the music is entirely mine. But.....only one way to find out. Would you care to join me?
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4 Responses to Not Your Usual Valentine (re-post)

  1. Cold shivers. That expression, to be full, has so many connotations. None of them particularly happy in the context.

  2. Reblogged this on Jane Dougherty Writes and commented:
    Antidote to the Valentine sugar OD.

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