V-Day, a Poem

So I have decided to contribute to the plethora of love poetry. Here are TWO poems for the books.

To My Valentine, Sort Of

I want a candy heart
that tastes like chocolate,
and says: I like you a lot
instead of love,
because for realz
it’s not that serious yet.

V-Day, a poem

I have been celebrating V-day,
all wrong,
the veins in my heart jealous of the
pump and pomp of GFs and BFs,
<3’s and X’s, shouting vehemently, “I am VEINglorious!” Venting as V’s often do, about their counterhearts, flushing vermilion as they reach varicose levels of envy. I try to calm them, worried that they’ll vie so hard they’ll vomit, vitality dripping from their valves like vitellus from a cracked egg; then they’ll bare their fangs, carnivorous and vampiric, committing verbicide of any word without the “vuh,” that makes vixens voluptuous, and the best villains vafrous. They’ll vacillate in their threats, bragging in vanity that their wings are more volacious than Cupid’s, swiftly giving up by sometime around noon, because they know their value and remember: B’s understand their plight on B-Days. Source, and thanks for some definitions: http://phrontistery.info/v.html

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