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When you softly knocked on my door,

I was relaxingly dozing on the floor,

With my entire romantic self-locked in the store,

And my heart nursing a score,

Of a racist cornered into a core.


My eyes closed but very open,

Like those of the sea and the stars,

Seeing the invisible to the selfish eye.


Red but black roses,

Hypocrisy disguised as love,

And opportunists posing as spouses.


I need flowers yes,

But love would have been enough,

If only it came always,

Not seasonally like the snow,

Or fake as you always make it.


Sorry for you were never welcomed,

Of course I knew it was you,

For you always came on the fourteenth of February,

You wore red as always,

But sorry this time you were red carded.

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