Upcycled, mixed media artwork by Keely Jane
Missed Out Again
Valentine's Day has passed.
I was not asked to be a player in a love tryst.
Where was Eros on that restless freefall?
I embrace the moon,
a cold hug in a nauseous fug
halfway to some ritual
of lighting small fires to melt a frozen heart.
Funny bone tings from a sudden bump,
the lump in my throat is rising,
not yet able to be cultivated into
detachment from pain.
I hear harps and mandolins
practicing romantic tunes
ready to explore midnight follies
between hip and shinbone.
I will not whimper,
instead plan ahead,
write a gazillion love letters
to whom it may apply.
