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Valentine S Day Quotes

Browse 207 quotes about Valentine S Day.

Valentine S Day Quotes

“This Butterfly Stings by Stewart Stafford The gold of my eye dances on stage for me, Her wings wafting behind her in the chorus, Yet none glimpsed that girl's beauty as I did, This butterfly flew solo in my mind's eye. For two years hence, I concealed my interest, Yet I gazed at her endlessly, so close yet apart, Places of learning changed, but she did not, I foolishly let fly Cupid's token to my inamorata. Seeing my love in a looking glass reflected, Shadow feelings illuminated St Valentine's Eve, My butterfly became a sullen stinging bee, Crushing my tender rose in pieces at my feet. Nor would her wicked scorn end there, She told her friends who joined in my shaming, For years after, turning my last shreds of adoration, Into contemptuous hatred of her existence. Truly no one can take away our memories, Where my former crush still dances on occasion, O sweet butterfly of my youth, one last wish, Never fly away from these fond recollections. © Stewart Stafford, 2022. All rights reserved.”

“THE NEXT DAY WAS RAIN-SOAKED and smelled of thick sweet caramel, warm coconut and ginger. A nearby bakery fanned its daily offerings. A lapis lazuli sky was blanketed by gunmetal gray clouds as it wept crocodile tears across the parched Los Angeles landscape. When Ivy was a child and she overheard adults talking about their break-ups, in her young feeble-formed mind, she imagined it in the most literal of essences. She once heard her mother speaking of her break up with an emotionally unavailable man. She said they broke up on 69th Street. Ivy visualized her mother and that man breaking into countless fragments, like a spilled box of jigsaw pieces. And she imagined them shattered in broken shards, being blown down the pavement of 69th Street. For some reason, on the drive home from Marcel’s apartment that next morning, all Ivy could think about was her mother and that faceless man in broken pieces, perhaps some aspects of them still stuck in cracks and crevices of the sidewalk, mistaken as grit. She couldn’t get the image of Marcel having his seizure out of her mind. It left a burning sensation in the center of her chest. An incessant flame torched her lungs, chest, and even the back door of her tongue. Witnessing someone you cared about experiencing a seizure was one of those things that scribed itself indelibly on the canvas of your mind. It was gut-wrenching. Graphic and out-of-body, it was the stuff that post traumatic stress syndrome was made of.”

“Marriage is not kick-boxing, it's salsa dancing.”

“The Romantic Charter by Stewart Stafford Eyes dazzled by romance's shine, Hostage suitor of Cupid and you, A willing disciple of St Valentine, With pierced heart of rosiest hue. Love is the next world's currency, All wealth we must leave behind, Call it the discarnate treasury, A repository of delicacies dined. Even if adoration sours on the lips, Or toxicity springs from intoxication, Nothing erases the first steps of bliss, Or can demolish memory's foundation. © Stewart Stafford, 2024. All rights reserved.”

“What was that? Valentine's Day? Her heart gave a little skip at the thought, she had never spent it in a romantic way before, usually the day meant sending and receiving cute Cupid cards and heart shaped sugar candies, but it was all in a platonic celebration of friendship. This time, it would not be like that, it would be ... special.”

“In Faceless Time by Stewart Stafford Her stare burned into me, In full view, a naked look, Hubbub quietened down, Inaudible to the two of us. Beckoning, a ripened vine, Ingénue cameo of her face, I, a happy gatecrasher to life, Tiptoed in the requited chase. Her looks carry with me now, Resplendent in aged raiment, Ages after my gaze fell on her, A souvenir sheltered radiant. © Stewart Stafford, 2023. All rights reserved.”