Saint Valentine’s Day Mascara

She cried when I forgot.
She cried when I remembered,
her tears like silver arrows
to my heart,
her eyes black-lined with sorrow.

The ink, barely dried,
smudged with liquid joy.
A big wet splash on the ‘o’
turning ‘love’ into ‘live’
and crowning my name
like a liquid tiara
for a princess
in a cruel land.

Granting wishes
like kisses.
So I wished she could
live forever
and never leave –
but she didn’t
and she did.
She became a ghost
long before she died,
her passing told to me
by friends.

When I looked for her,
in the pages of a scrapbook,
she was laughing,
not crying –
funny how time
erases the truth
because
all I remembered
were her tears
and that sad
Saint Valentine’s Day
mascara.