Valentine’s Day

Valentine’s Day card came in the mail,

postage due and marked, “resident,”

was told it came from the heart

by a person who couldn’t remember my name.

 

Wouldn’t pay my bills,

didn’t enable me to buy groceries,

the I Love You inside,

had no power to turn on the electricity.

 

Is a feeling utterly consuming

a messiah for every pain?

Does the image of Cupid

resemble a miracle worker?

 

To have a heart

then shower its power on others

will warm and heal infrequently,

but it will never fill a void

from the countless holes in life.

 

It is a bread you miss when not there,

still it won’t completely fulfill

each shattered dream and parched throat.