Give me a stone and I will see the glaring message
“Heart of mine, trip all you can, I will be here to catch your falls”
Give me ordinary sand and I will smile at the sweetness of thought
That says “Even if we turn dust, this heart will you belong”
Even the stinking end of food will communicate love staying potent even in filth
But it seems I am only one, living like an anachronistic prop
Unneeded in this nation of love
Days are peeling decorum and appreciation
Off the surface of Cupid’s possession
Showing the bones of greed where flutters used to dwell
When souls bind
Gifted nothings are given meaningful somethings
And kept in hearts for years to dig smiles of remembrance, gestures rule after all
But now, flowers are met with frowns
Their happy outstretched hands of meaningful gestures
Flawed by their wilting traits
Handkerchiefs whose beautiful significance of wiping tears
Keeping clean in cold
And wiping dirt off significant others
Are given tags of inexpensiveness
How did living in the country of love become so costly?
How did it turn mines to be dug by seekers of gold?
How did we get here?
We need self checks before we end up throwing away hearts
Ready to die in our steads because of blinding glitters
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © February 14, 2019

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