I could be your Valentine, but my Cupid dips her darts
In my quivering heart, and each flies tipped with blood.
That carmine stain might not suit your style, and will surely ruin
Your composure.

I could be your Valentine, but my box of sweets is strange and rare;
Full of chocolate dark as night and musky honey stripped from unknown blooms.
These complex flavors could drive the savor out of every other taste
Upon your tongue.

I could be your Valentine, but my bright bouquet of flowers
Is so full of sex and sap that the nectar brings a swarm of bees.
These blooms are buzzing now with sweetness so sharp
You might get stung.

I could be your Valentine, but the potency of my poetry
Burned all the paper hearts to ash beneath my pen.
I make strong men weep and beautiful women dance
With my words.

I could be your Valentine–but baby, you better brace yourself.
This ain’t no drugstore box of chocolates kind of romance.
I’m bringing in earthquakes and fire, volcanoes and floods–
Vital like a live wire.