Glitterless cards.
Denuded velvet chocolates boxes.
Kewpie dolls with their curl-
Like the final filip on a soft serve cone-
Bit off savagely.
(Who does that?)
Cardboard cupids nurse hangovers.
Red paper ribbon winding its way across the floor,
Through the pool of rubbed off glitter,
To a chair behind the counter.
A woman is sitting there faded by life
Like the silk flowers in the window.
It’s mid-June not February;
Are you too lazy to care?
Or is this what you think of love?
The woman sighs, reaching for her flyswatter.