Image created by author in Midjourney
I trace the edge of paper hearts,
scarlet and soft as whispered regrets.
The candle sputters, shadows grow tall,
mocking the vows we left unsaid.
Love, a fleeting Valentine ghost,
haunts the corners of my chest.
Still, I press red roses to my lips,
their thorns a silent, aching hymn.
About the Creator
Diane Foster
I’m a professional writer, proofreader, and all-round online entrepreneur, UK. I’m married to a rock star who had his long-awaited liver transplant in August 2025.
When not working, you’ll find me with a glass of wine, immersed in poetry.
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