Soul to soul.
Mind to mind.
Heart to heart.
Proud of you as mine!
Mine is yours, and yours is mine! Fical as man is, his bound heart
Is hooked to mine, while all else is fine.
On an auspicious, creepy eve, dark clouds
Suspended over the moon, blocking its lights.
‘The lover’s moon’, it’s called, as nothing in lifes
Stays as bright as moon beams, like faery dusts,
It flits ethereally into the yawning emptiness,
Lighting crescents of brilliancy that contrasts
Heavily against pitch blacks.
On this haloed night, the valentine is scarce,
He hides in the shadows, vainly trying not to be a farce.
He flits from place to place vying for the best gifts,
He dwells in darkness, fearing that light highlights
His ever growing flaws.
He hides, he seeks, but his valentine stays unsent.