Tuesday, February 14, 2023


In a season 
where hearts most resemble 
dead leaves, 

our offensive of indifference 
is concealed 
like the wind

as it permeates 
the skin and swiftly 
subjugates rejection. 

So what, we want to spit 
blindly at the seers,
if we choose to flirt 
a little bit with 

Is it not a fact 
that repeated gestures 
build significance?

So what 
if our love language 

turns out to be 

Is it not more empowering 
to perish the thought

that our wanderings
in the desert of another
were for nothing?

To still believe their slights 
may yet turn out to be 
that promise,

that errorless envoy
which renders angels