At 18
I didn’t feel the click of the counter
Counting the years I had spent
Valentines alone
Like the other girls could
I couldn’t hear the metallic click of failure
I didn’t see the appeal of
A dollar rose from Tesco
A night out at the local Nandos
Or Pandora rings
From someone who would leave me next week
Why show someone you love them in a day
When there are 363 others
At 20.
I first heard the hollow click.
When I expected roses at the door
And they, never came.
I watched as my friends’ gifts went from
A dollar rose to homes with gardens
A Nandos turned to a weekend in Paris
Pandora rings to engagement rings
With a promise of forever
While my partners mysteriously disappeared.
Off the face of the Earth.
I guess I wouldn’t have minded
If they had done these things
On any of the other 363 days of the year.
Any one. At all.
At 23,
I still hear the click.
Almost fatalistic now.
Like a death march.
It reminds me.
How many men.
In this patriarchal society.
Have deemed me unworthy.
Of a dollar rose.
Green Glasses 