I used to have a friend who was adverse to the very idea of holidays. He ignored them with a passion, so of course, I think of him on every “special” day. Today is no different. So, I’ll just say, Happy Valentines Day, David Michael Taylor. I still love you and regret all my misdeeds.
I wrote a poem for him years ago, after he shunned me. I actually managed to find it! Consider it copylefted. Reprint with credit (Serena Blaiz for noobies), blah, blah.
You can’t reach someone
who doesn’t want to be reached —
technology hasn’t yet solved the problem
of the betrayed heart.
Where Love means
never getting the chance to say
and still loving
or dreaming it said,
dreaming it plummeting
the Colorado mountains
busted like a vein of fool’s gold.
The thought of “sorry”
sounding like an invisible comet
across the Continental Divide.
Feeling like my right hand
floating somewhere in the Gulf of Mexico —
wave, wave wave …