The moon, space and her.

February 13th - at night

And then the city stood still.
Some waiting soundly asleep.
Some others showing a bit of the love of tomorrow.
And then there are those who prepare for the day, alone.

No one to say I love you too.
Or rather, maybe no one who says it back.
No one to hold, caress or make laugh.
No one who could withstand the emotion.

Just whispers of what childhood used to be.
Sighs of envy of what isn't owned.
Sad tunes from the music box.
Wet socks from the rain above.

Drunk drivers heading out towards their lovers.
Worried souls beneath the sheets waiting for their lovers to come home.
Hopeful minds waiting for a great tomorrow.
Happy hearts that rest at peace.

Lovers who will never be.
A smile never to be seen again.
Friends who wait for a call.
Fools waiting for the apocalypse to finally give their all.

Strings strung for own ears.
Not a voice, nor a groan.
Just self thought.
Just made up mistakes.

My darling, the moon.
Looks towards her children.
Happy for those with a warm heart.
Devastated by the human disconnect.

Thoughts, many thoughts.

Who keeps company?
Who smiles and contemplates?
Who can go by?
Who has a heart and who does not?

Feelings indescribable by words.
Not books nor stories.
Not a million and one poems.
Can describe the feeling of February 13th.

A night so conflicted.
So divisive and still so loved.
So feared and yet so cheered for.
That firsts happen.
That try agains are expected.

Flowers.
Candy.
Chocolate.
Sugar.
Shiny things.
Expensive things.
Unimaginable gifts.
Nights of love.
Nights of despair.
Songs.
Many many songs.
Poems and texts.
Tears and sadness.
Clothes.
And accessories.
But still.
Many gifts.
Many stories.
Many promises given.
...
...
...
But none are you.