Valentines Day

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Quarantine is nothing new

To those of us who draw tiny hearts

On the edges of newspapers

Or on the steam vapor canvas

Of bone chilled windows

As we’re 

insulated by memories

like the way that

her head 


would slowly land


onto the lunar landscape 


Of my shoulder 


the moment that we were


slain by an aria,


Dancing to God Only Knows


naked to our feet


Draped by a top sheet 


Or the million times


that I would turn to her


Simply because she was there.

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