I should be relieved this year,
No Valentine for me,
Though he once claimed I was dear,
Never sat comfortably.
Supermarket flowers,
A blatant afterthought;
Clearly had no hours,
To think before he bought.
A comedic card,
Or sometimes, ‘to my wife’,
Left me somewhat scarred,
With marks from twisted knife.
For each year was unsigned,
Personal message was left blank,
As decades slowly passed;
My heart speedily sank.
A cheap bottle of wine
Exorcised bitter taste,
In a moment divine
I lost the years of waste.
Should who I desire
Be lurking in background,
Would surely backfire
As doubt I’d hear a sound.
For neither could he be
Smallest consolation,
He’d be with family
Likely explanation.
One has found new amour,
Other has found old;
This one’s been left unsure
Why never struck gold.
As I deliberate
Unwelcome Valentine,
Realise was not my fate
For either to be mine.
‘Better to have loved and lost’,
A Tennyson quote,
I read and consider cost:
A Valentine gloat?
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