Two Loves, Two Hearts, Two Bloods
Within a lifetime of Valentines,
will it have been said that
all the personal encounters
dealt to us throughout the years,
were optimistic or
pessimistic as to all the
intricacies of that
which we came to know of as romance?

Holding forth our court of
harlequins and jesters,
a myriad of stained somas
pour out their bosoms into the
Queen of Hearts
outstretched hand.
Shuffling through them,
all are reduced to characters as
two dimensional as paper,
for indeed they
are paper.

Of course Valentines Day
was always conveyed to us
through childhood and into our teens
as a time in which we were given
carte blanche to communicate some
deep and cherished kinship we had with
another human being.
All this and dare I say,
something called love.

As a young child,
having received a card from
each and every one of our peers
quite simply translated to acceptance.
Think back to your own self during this time period
and consider the trauma that
would have occurred
had you received nothing.

Perhaps now it seems minor,
but back then it was a
major psychological event.
Have things changed?
Do we as adults now shrug off such
petty adolescent pangs?
As adults,
it is now not so much about
receiving a card from someone,
but rather,
simply having someone, for
to approach such a holiday and be alone,
is a massive amplification to the fact that
we have failed in matters of the heart.
Everyone wishes to be adored
and to want it and yet not be,
brings us pain.
How can this pain be defined?
It is not easily done, yet
most of us know how it feels.
To verbalize it is another matter.
Strangely, we do all seem to know
were the pain originates,
and that place lies buried
there within our chests.

If upon being born,
we were never told that
throughout history the
heart was conceived to be
where our deepest emotions were held,
would we not have come to this conclusion ourselves?
Were it that only emotions
could damage such fragile hearts;
that platonic encounters
were the only means of their destruction.
Venus, goddess of love,
brings us not only rapture
but also visceral annulment.

And now,
via the passing of
one blood into another,
a living rust is conveyed to
a heart that desired love,
but ultimately got its valentine
from a tainted envelope.

©95 Jack Hubbell