A whiff of fresh mint
that tastes like strawberry pie.
Your kisses tempt me.
February 1st
Once upon a time there was a king
and a queen though not of the same kingdom. They were of different lands and ruled over
very different subjects, possessing unique talents and single hearts.
This valiant king and beautiful
queen one day found themselves treading the same route which happened to
meander through both their lands. Upon
this chance meeting they detected in one another distinctive, worthy qualities,
both intriguing and impressive enough to cause them to want to cross paths
again.
Letters were exchanged from his
kingdom to hers, delivered in haste. For
even the heralds could see what a marvelous thing it might be to join these two
great empires. And so, through written
exchanges, it was agreed that this king would escort the queen in his grand,
red carriage to view the celebrated, annual light festival in her land—an
experience enjoyed after sunset.
On the night of the event, they
rode along for hours, talking, laughing and smiling frequently at one
another. Their hearts beat in rhythm,
pattering with pleasure and tenderness, one toward the other. Jolly tunes played over the air, enhancing
their bliss. The king shared pictures of
his royal family and subjects, portraits that pleased the beautiful queen. And upon this enchanted night, surrounded by
twinkling lights, their hearts swelled and the two fell in love.
It was not long before their
kingdoms joined; a merger solidified through marriage. It was a union that made them both forever
good and rich.
To say that they lived happily ever
after would be in error, because their days consisted of continual and
unnumbered trials. There were some
periods that sparkled and warmed their souls like the festive lights under
which this king and queen fell spellbound in love. Other times proved darker, but not without
growth and gain. The promise was that
through enduring these trials together—remaining a forever united kingdom in
laughter, sorrow, hardship, and love—their uniquely beating hearts would
eventually, someday, meld as one.
The Valentine is one heart shared by two.
February 2nd
You need tell me nothing; I already know your
heart. Through your simplest choices
you've given yourself away.
February 3rd
I love you because you loved me
first.
Yet you love me, saying I loved you
first.
Funny, our love thrives believing the
other person started it.
February 4th
What's the point of changing who you are in
order to impress a woman, when your intention is to return to who you were, a
person she was never attracted to in the first place?
February 5th
“When you do fall in love with me, I
don’t want it to be because I gave in to your demands, but because your heart
gave in to its desire to truly be loved.”
February 6th
Love is many kind acts accumulated
over time that leave us feeling wonderful.
February 7th
If only you would kiss me.
Press your lips to mine like a
searing iron. Wrap me in your arms as if
you were a monarch claiming a kingdom. Hold
me close until I warm through to the core. Do this, and I promise to melt into you, no
longer a cold and frozen figure in your narrowed sight. How devoted I would be if only your lips
burned for mine!
If only you would kiss me.
February 8th
It is a sweet thing to have someone
love you, but it is a far sweeter thing when his actions convince your heart,
and his words persuade your soul.
February 9th
The search only ends when you finally
find the one who truly gets you.
February 10th
Life is a love story, with every character
yearning for permanent refuge in someone's heart.
February 11th
To a
man, sex is the ultimate expression of love. It is pure pleasure. But to a woman there exists something greater
than pleasure―gestures of adoration. A gentle
caress on the cheek, an attentive smile, a soft kiss while swept away in a slow
dance, the whispered words, 'You're
beautiful'―these are the tokens of
love that women cherish.
February 12th
They tell me you're the best and the
worst thing to have happened to me, but I do not see how it can be both. For if my death resulted from your presence,
an everlasting sleep would have me dreaming happily of us together. I see no bad in that. Therefore, you must be the best thing to have
ever happened to me because you make the worst seem wonderful.
February 13th
Love is an afternoon of fishing when
I'd sooner be at the ballet.
Love is eating burnt toast and lumpy
graving with a big smile.
Love is hearing the words, 'You're
beautiful,' as
I fail to squeeze into my fat jeans.
Love is refusing to bring up the
past, even if doing so would be a slam dunk to prove your point.
Love is your hand wiping away my
tears, trying to erase streaks of mascara.
Love is the warm hug that
extinguishes an argument.
Love is a humbly-uttered apology,
even if not at fault.
Love is easy to recognize but so hard
to define; however, I think it boils down to this...
Love is caring so much about the
feelings of someone else, you sacrifice whatever it takes to help him or her
feel better.
In other words, love is my heart
being sensitive to yours.
February 14th
To the romantic soul, the rituals of
Valentine's Day echo every day of the year.
February 15th
Though I love you to the core of my
being, so thoroughly that every cell comprising me aches to be near you, I must
accept that we can never be together. For
our existence parallels the sun and the moon—a temptation in constant,
beautiful view, yet if the sun were ever to kiss the moon it would devour the
heavenly orb whole. Oh, my darling, if
only I were the moon! Then I would dare
taste your lips and be happy for my last and final joy! But alas, I am the sun, and I will not venture
to destroy the one I love.
Copyright 2015 Richelle E. Goodrich
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