Valentine's Day Poem by Aglia Nost

There is no more lonesome day, no signle saddest way to die

There is no time that can murder as brutaly

There is no slowest way to shoot me, dear

There is no worst way to make me miserable than to act so mysteriously as to bust my heart open, dear

There is no madder connection than the way that bonds our souls together, dear.

There is no darker way to end than to live adoring you, dear.

Yes, yes I suffer incredibly since I've sufficated in the floods of your drubken luster that demolished all the insignifisence in my life, dear. But at least, unlike your friends and my enemies, at least we live, at least we breathe, at least we think, my dear.

There is no expirience more ectatic than the one, that this morning, you offered me, dear. The moment when you cooly announced that the rich red rose that with such firm pride you carried, was from a funny male gent and not a ruthless girl's scent.

Then with your excessively enchantic humour you took off the petals of your strange read rose, one by one. Dexterously, sublimely, conveniently, with that absoloute form of elegance that only you, my dear, posses. You stripped off all hints of my deathly boredom with your class, with your superbness, with your radience, with your heart, dear.

Finally, she loves me not you announced as they all wondered of the validity of such a contrevery statement that displayed a terribly insupposable validity. A bomb of lies you threw and indulged them in
excruciating doubt; that they ever so poorly attempted to hide behind their intentionally careless squills.

What more proof is required to convice you of how misleading the results of such games can be?