Don't Tell Them
Don't tell them
Romance is a green apple disguised
With a virgin's blush.
Tell them real valentines
Are constructed from muscle,
Tolerance, capillaries and forgiveness.
But they won't listen.
These flashy lovers sport cloaks
Like an abstract Pollack painting
Splattered with impervious charm.
Don't tell them
This pagan ritual is sometimes flush
With the color of self-pity as it embraces
Betrayal's Dark Prince.
Tell them Love is not shiny Formica
Nor a glamour TV cosmetic commercial.
But these are irrational travelers.
They won't listen.
People who risk flesh- trips at visceral speed
Seldom schedule pilgrimages to their hearts.
