I just wanted to tell you something.
You are not my valentine.
I don't love you.
You're a fling to me.
A flailing fling,
until this dance and disco music are over.
You're attracted to me, of course:
Obsessed by my cool clothes and perfect body,
envious of my persistance and nature for the best
But, I am not attracted to you.
You don't have
what I need.
Once this is over, I'm single again.
"He's just there." or "Availble" for someone else's prying hands of love.
A girl can only have me once, you know.
Your impression to me was like a stain.
If a girl loves me yet leaves me alone,
She is the one Valentine.
If a girl that appears sleepy to the obvious
awakes to nought but my love,
she is the one Valentine.
If a girl who is shy yet pleasant
talks to me as friend and family,
she is the one Valentine.
You,
you just hang around me.
For lust, for entertainment, for popularity.
But when we're done, get away from me.
Become like the hermit, stay where you think
you come from.
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