Yet Another Valentines Day For Yasmeen, 2007

Here we go again: they want flowers,
Heart-shaped chocolates, rosy ornaments,
Dinner with candles, a
Holding of hands, another year pretending
Our marriage is perfect.

And when you married me, you must have
Known I would never do
These things that are done
By other men.

And now, some years later, you know
I will not falsely praise you; I will not
Speak to you with hallmark cards, or
Place diamonds on your hand; I will
Not promise that I will be true or sing
Your praise in stupid rhymes.

And we are too old to pretend:
Our marriage is not perfect: sometimes
You want to be held when all I want to hold
Is books;
You never like my cooking or cleaning;
You hate my driving, especially when I tear
Through red lights; I am impatient, selfish, proud
And I don’t like it when you talk loud.

And, after all, there is no need to pretend:
No consumerism shall consume
What I feel for you.
All the words on all the cards in all the world
Could not express your beauty.
And my words of love will be
Whispered to no woman
In all of heaven or all of earth.
Only you.

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