My February 13 is slipping 
from inside the stall of a food hall.
I serve couples who are tourists
at the night’s singles party

men’s eyes feast  
attractive women wonder
around a hope to engage 
in connecting lines 
like poets matching words 
to couple internal rhymes: 

their luv is trying on a glove 
my hain’t is painting a sorrow 
tonight’s dream will not steam 
until the morning has broken into tomorrow.

Thank you for stopping by. I hope you enjoyed this piece. I would love to hear your thoughts on it in the comment section below. 🙂

Head over to my [Substack] where I share a more immersive experience. This poem’s typed draft is there so you can see how much it has changed since I first wrote it. I would love to hear your thoughts and impressions on how it was edited.