The season is red.
Roses on the bed.
Everywhere looks bright,
Even in the absence of light.
The day gives way for night,
Easily and without a fight.
But I feel something's amiss,
It's the presence of the bliss.
Everyone looks gay with their mate,
But I look so pale on my date.
Where has the joy of the season gone?
Leaving my heart to mourn the sound of the gun.
Now I take a journey to the past,
Seeing a movie where I'm the cast.
The season had always been gratefully fast.
With not a feeling that'd last.
Anxiously I wait for it to come and go,
'Cause I know I wouldn't feel it glow.
But the table's turned,
And now my story is changed.
The season brings to my eyes tears,
And the pain my laughter bears.
Who will be my Val?
Will it be you my Pal?
The question rings in my head,
Like an interesting poetry I read.
What gift will I give to my dear?
Is it the very hurt I bear?
Who will be my Val I say?
And for every of my order pay.
But what will I even order?
Is it crying like no other?
What will I wear on my date?
The outfit chosen by my mate?
Or the dark raiment with a hood?
That would show my entire dark mood.
I know you'd wonder why,
Even on my Val date I cried.
The reason isn't farfetched,
My Val by death has been benched.
Now I ask again and again,
In growing tears, agony and pain.
That would you please be my Val?
And wipe my tears, you my dearest Pal......
©DaTalent
#Valentine special
#31/01/2016
#12:30am