Touch tears from your cheeks
To your fingertips
To the grass
When you come full circle
Only to find the ash of your smile
Dusted across a valentine
Stale with glue.
It hurts to kneel
To whispers of lost loves and dreams
Stings to wonder at the outcome
Of different paths taken.
Briars lose their thorns
When your skin is thicker then
The nightmares at the end of their needles
So circle the places
Where you let go of false pride and
Picked up integrity at the break of dawn.
Mark the places
Where you added another piece to your heart
Puzzled over the watermelon seeds
Hiding in the rotting gut of pain and
Learned valentines grow stale
If you do not let them go.
Jaya Avendel is a writer living in the Blue Ridge Mountains of Virginia, where she dips her pen into the inkwell of fantasy and prose. She writes at ninchronicles.wordpress.com