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My Valentine Blue

Listen to Ivy read My Valentine Blue


I caress pages of My Valentine Blue beneath the gaze of a February moon at midnight.

Alone by the stream where we used to collect summertime pebbles, I pull my coat tighter to preserve remnants of my warmth. Snow is falling on the water, which is losing its battle against the cold. Soon, it will be frozen—its passion will writhe beneath an icy surface, unable to flow freely. Unable to express itself. Just like you, My Valentine Blue.

Too sweet you are.
For them.

Too loving you are.
For them.

Too knowledgeable you are.
For them.

Too passionate you are.
For them.

You are too much you, My Valentine Blue.
But I love you true, so I caress you beneath the gaze of a February moon at midnight.

The chill invades us, telling us we aren’t wanted.
We aren’t good enough.
We aren’t worthy of being seen.

We should be still.

Be silent.

Be nobody.

I caress pages of My Valentine Blue beneath the gaze of a February moon at midnight.

I’m ready to let us fade into the forever silence of a heart broken by an unrealized dream. My hand places you in the water, but I can’t let go even though iciness bites my skin. Pain of letting go is greater than pain of holding on, so I follow you into the rushing stream and soak myself in the cold until the February moon goes black.

I wake to a voice.


My Valentine Blue calls me from somewhere warm inside my heart’s hope.

A fire burns by my bedside where The Rescuer reads dried pages of my love,

My Valentine Blue.

He sees her.
He breathes her.
He believes in her soul.
He loves her just as she is.
Without censure.
Without shame.
Without hiding her name.

Reality shifts into dreams anew as I gaze through my window and find a February moon. I smile a weak smile as The Rescuer takes my hand and kisses it to remind me that love is our truth.

Ever fierce.

Ever real.

Ever me.

Ever you.

May our future be bright, My Valentine Blue.



© 2020, Ivy Blackwater. All rights reserved.


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