Not his Valentine

He limps along the streets
a heartless man.
a being less than hope.
a liar to himself, the mineral of man.

His liver spotted hands are wrapped
around a mug of tepid coffee,
and with sour lips he sips a sense
of life to rotting limbs.

Deep inside his folds
of chest remains the ice,
a cavity, a heartbeat echo with
warmth that’s stolen by the past.

She was the summer that grew cold;
when with his heartbeat fists
he declared an ownership
that wasn’t his to take.

She left on broken wings and maybe
hides above behind the blinds,
and while he is freezing
she claimed his heart for warmth.

Reclining Nude by Victor Pasmore

Reclining Nude by Victor Pasmore

Today Lilian hosts Poetics at dVerse, and want us to write poetry based on hearts… in any way you like (and you can write a wonderful Valentine poem if you like)

February 14, 2017

31 responses to “Not his Valentine

  1. Oh wow. I love how you twisted the meaning of “heartless” as you moved from the opening to the closing. Very clever, well-written piece.

  2. I actually think he killed her and now regrets it. I think her death, at his hands, will forever haunt him.

  3. Is this still the lonely librarian. Björn? He is so familiar, I think he must be.I love the progression from a heartless liar, a mineral of man, to the echo of past warmth, and to the heat of his passion that iced over. A tragic love story.

  4. A dark & vigorous romp, brother. My sense is that she did not drive him to destitution; he found another path there. He just pines for a fantasy he never achieved, lying to himself on Valentine’s day. I love the line /deep inside his folds /of chest remains the ice./.

  5. Oh….you’ve written this character so very well…I can spot him in a crowd. Perhaps his knuckles are still skinned….sadly, there are too many relationships like this. Not my valentine!

  6. Interesting relationship. We are introduced to him as heartless in the beginning and at the end we find out the reason he is heartless is because she stole his heart for warmth and he broke her wings.

  7. I think I saw this fellow on a street corner downtown, near where he sleeps under the highway overpass! Stunning portrayal!

  8. Oh, Bjorn…..this goes to the heart of the matter of domestic abuse. There are victims but the perpetrator victimizes himself. What a poignant, tragic spot on life.
    Sharp, evocative poem.

  9. This is powerful and jarring, this being less than hope. What a sad tale, and rightfully so. There are some cruelties that cannot be offset by warm happy endings, but only the chill of apathy… a righteous absence.

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