by Christine Joseph
The only time of the year
where loneliness and depression prevail,
makes you wonder about
how anyone could be alone
with no one to
comfort, and love, and care for them.
My sadness stems not lack of love,
on the contrary,
it is my greatest virtue and value
I have loved many times
given of myself to the point where
I was nothing but a shell of my former being.
The first time I gave it my all;
I loved, they my heart was shattered
my virginity in love was cast aside.
The second time I only gave half of myself,
for I knew the past would haunt me.
History repeated itelf, and showed me
the more grim side of "love";
another failure on my part.
Three times was enough
the loss at times of need were devestatating
Age-old rituals of matchmaking and love festivals
cannot heal the wounds of loss
and to watch other engage in the festivity
hurts beyond all imaginable things.
Perhaps that is why I am here
alone, all over again in this world,
maybe waiting for that special someone,
or not. . .
but for today,
loneliness is my companion,
despair my only solitude,
with the sole thought that, me,
the saddest Valentine
awaits the chance of redemption. . . . .