There is No Valentine’s Day in Hell

There are no chocolates for me, no flowers,
No I love you texts in the early morning hours.
There will be no heart-shaped balloons in the sky,
No jewelry or teddy bears with sparkly eyes.

Perhaps a picnic basket full of rancid meat,
A letter wrapped with a bow of bountiful deceit.
The pinks and blues are old bruises still blooming on my skin,
From a man who swore he loved me, said he was all in.

There is no Valentine’s Day in Hell — 
Not in 2019, 2020, 2021,
2022, 2023, 2024… and 2025 as well.
No escape from the love others so freely give,
To everyone else — but not to this fucking broken kid.

There is no Cupid here you see…
Not perched on the stoop of a crumbling building — just like me.
Just me and Lucifer’s ride…
Drawing hearts in the snow, waiting for fate to turn the tide.

There is no Valentine’s Day in Hell

But there is sin. There is darkness. There is fire.
An abundance of screams that never tire.
Lies wrap around you like bliss,
As ignorance straddles you, leaning in for a kiss.

Lucifer stands behind the fallen bricks, watching me at bay,
Knowing my rage and pain could take him down on Valentine’s Day.
Seven feet tall, body of a builder, horns standing proud, one foot in height.
A six-pack, hooves that carve the ground in delight.

And as I swing off a broken beam, screaming like a banshee,
He steps up behind me, an outstretched arm, a hand extended to me.
His nails long and black, glossy like his lips,
I step down, standing small, barely reaching his hips.

I place my hand on his abs and lean in,
Press my head against him, seeking solace in sin.
He rests his hand on the back of my head,
And whispers….

“There is no Valentine’s Day for the dead.”

Then he takes my hand, his grip firm yet light,
And says, “Let’s go for a ride.”
I nod, lips trembling, voice barely alive…
“Okay… but I drive.”

For those who listen between the lines.
Elaine Degro