FebruaryIn the second monthFebruary2 years ago in The Great Valentine Exchange
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we avoid the busy high streets,
gaudy with garish reds, pinks,
like an overpowering floral scent.
You remind me that strangers know
nothing about our empty inboxes,
unfulfilled libidos or the apathy
of mismatched underwear.
A change of gait or curling your mouth
into a smile deceives everyone --
in love or not, the snow still slushes
beneath your feet and loss
of traction will haunt drivers
on journeys to everyday
is not slobbering
self consciously in the street, you
tell me, a rose is a scentless cliché,
a dozen nude snapshots in the same bathroom.
In love or not, palms will still sweat
if clasped too long, so
count yourself lucky, lady,
that we occasionally tread the same path