A Valentine's Day poem from someone who's not my valentine:

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Sonnet XVII

I don't love you as if you were the salt-rose, topaz
Or arrow of carnations that propogate fire;
I love you as certain dark things are loved,
secretly, between the shadow and the soul.

I love you as the plant that doesn't bloom and carries
Hidden within itself the light of those flowers,
And thanks to your love, darkly in my body
lives the dense fragrance that rises from the earth.

I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where,
I love you simply, without problems or pride:
I love you in this way because I don't know any other way
of loving
but this, in which there is no I or you,
so intimate that your hand upon my chest is my hand,
so intimate that when I fall asleep it is your eyes that close.

Pablo Neruda

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She gave this to me at work today, not because she's my valentine, but because she figured I could give it to that special someone in the future. Thank You Noe.

Happy Valentine's Day to those who are in like and love, and for those of us who aren't ... Black Wednesday is almost over ...