I sit alone this Valentine's Day.
Tears stream down my cheeks as I remember the hurt, the pain, the lies.

On my walls are the memories of you.
Some faded photos of us.
Smiling, happy, in love.

Your arm was around me in most of them.
My life line.

On my dresser is an old box of chocolates. Unopened.
Next to the box is a glass vase filled with old rotten roses.
Oh, how I used to love when you surprised me at work with them!

But now, no more roses. No more love. No more us. You left me for her. . .


You are nothing but an old Valentine's Day Memory. . .
 
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