To my husband:

I gave you my heart, I thought you did the same.
And here we are, our first Valentine’s Day,
A married couple. Yet instead of your heart, your gift was just a name.
I don’t think you planned it or meant all this trouble.
But the heart I gave is dismayed, lost in the struggle.

I understand your sickness, but not your need,
to run away, disappear, forget our life and leave me here.
I wonder are you drunk? Did you die? Do you bleed?
So here is my heart again, this time in an attempt to make you see.
Not crying or begging, not silence, not much left to express

what you do to us, to me.