February 14th

The stores bleed red.

...

Roses in plastic coffins.

Chocolate hearts stacked like organs for transplant.

Every aisle humming with the gospel of two.

...

And I walk alone through it—

a ghost in the clearance aisle of devotion.

...

They say love is in the air.

But air is thin at this altitude.

...

Tonight, tables are set for symmetry.

Candles lean toward each other like conspirators.

Glasses kiss.

Hands find hands beneath linen.

...

And somewhere—

someone is counting the cracks in their ceiling

because silence is louder than the laughter next door.

...

We forget that celebration has an echo.

...

For every bouquet delivered,

there is a phone that does not ring.

For every "I choose you,"

there is someone who was not chosen.

For every kiss pressed to a forehead,

there is a forehead learning how to cool itself.

...

Valentine's Day is a cathedral of togetherness—

but not all of us are allowed inside.

...

Some of us kneel in the parking lot,

watching light spill through stained glass windows

we helped build

for someone else.

...

We post our joy—

filtered, captioned, heart-eyed—

and do not see the way it lands

like salt in an open mouth.

...

This is not a plea to dim your joy.

...

Love loudly.

Love wildly.

But remember—

...

Not everyone is on the same road.

Some are still crawling out of wreckage.

Some are learning to hold their own hand

without mistaking it for absence.

Some are burying somone who once made this day holy.

Some are fighting the quiet war of believing

they are not unworthy.

...

Tonight, if you are loved—

celebrate.

...

But leave a light on

for the ones outside the cathedral.

...

And if you are alone—

know this:

...

Your solitude is not a verdict.

It is not proof of defect.

It is not a red stamp on your worth.

...

It is simply a different chapter.

...

And chapters turn.

...

Even on February 14th.