I am the martyr of the blood soaked sun, of our love. Setting at the sea, under the sunshine blue sky. Turning colors, fading the light to kiss the night. Valentine smooth and kind, Valentine to be by my side. A flower-crowned skull I might wear for spring to call my name, and whisper the reasons why I am insane. Valentine call my name. Where your roots are ripped to roam like mine, where your lips are heartbeats that seize to electrify. Bewildered dreams of destinies we cannot seem to commence but there is no sense; To endure, to love, to live you as I do. Tried and fallen, are my labors to stay away but I am still such a child that likes to play. Will you write me a letter? Put the pen to the paper and I will think of you. Your hand and ice gaze that will see me into the cold dew. Valentine, do not betray me. Drunk and naked the Catholic heart that is cancelled in belief only believes in you. Do not send me through the artificial red light without the blood and tears of what they call love. It is so ugly and damp inside of my mind filled with brilliant silence that hears each violence like a rapture. Fingernails at a chalk board as I long madly for you. An appearance of my unruly madness has chased me to February’s mid-trance dancing nostalgically amongst the petals of my broken heart. Shattered from decades ago, before I was born. Yet my Valentine, I do not hide. Chase me around, embrace me in your parallel madness. And I will be honest to you as I say. ”I’m purely satisfied by loves mystique and horrific leap to beyond the limits of any expectation but to the wilderness of madness. The madness a perfect glory of love. To live is to love.” I want to love again, so freely even if the fall might break everything I hold. Let it be so. Let me soar on love if only once again.
Poem by By Vanessa Matic
image by Austin Roque