i lie face down on the couch
as the clock ticks to midnight
marking the beginning
of another valentine's day.
my fingertips brush the carpet
as my eyes blankly stare
catching the lamp's light
refracted by an empty wine bottle.
abandoned headphones emit music
faint, far-off, distant
much like this surreal feeling
of being alone, without you.
while i hate you for what you did,
all i can remember right now
are the chocolates and the roses
you bought for me last year.
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