I give Valentines to everyone
To hide I am giving a Valentine to one—
Whom I especially approve of—
Though it only resembles, superficially, love.
I wish I could love with real passion;
I only live in the likes and dislikes of fashion,
Cutting out hearts from paper that happens to be bright red,
Making sure I am nicely dressed; my love is dead,
And so my love belongs to sorrow.
I smile today. The mystery is for tomorrow.