S-ain’t Valentine’s Day: February 12-19, 2026
Write a song or poem to or about a former love - not one you’re with now, but someone you used to date, be married to, have a crush on, have a fling with, love, like, lust after, etc. Doesn’t have to be hateful, resentful, or antagonistic (but certainly can be) - just has to be about a certain someone from your past.
The Submissions:
by Captain Quillard
Just by way of disclaimer:
I’d never picked up a stranger –
Didn’t realize I was ‘til I did it.
That day you had related
facts on art you’d curated,
and we talked after, near the exhibit.
You asked, while you were in town
what fun was to be found;
and, unusually bold, I responded:
A friend was opening a bar, see;
and that night was the party -
You were welcome to join if you wanted.
When I picked you up that night,
you said you’d realized that I might
be a killer with a victim tally.
Glad your sense of humor was good,
since I said I definitely would
be murdering you in the alley.
Our conversation was boundless;
ignored everyone around us
as we laughed and we flirted and yakked on
Then you started to sadden -
It was back to Manhattan
for you in the morning, gone back home
But we stayed in touch quite a while,
corresponding across the miles,
‘til you asked me to come for a visit.
Said you wanted to show me
your favorite Negroni,
some art, and some things more explicit.
My curiosity piqued,
I came during Gallery Week;
We had lunch with your boss, Kara Walker.
You showed me your haunts
and Bourdain’s restaurant,
since you knew I was kind of his stalker.
Such a Bohemian image:
Arm in arm through The Village
in the morn after being up all night.
We looked like Dylan’s album cover -
Wouldn’t be longtime lovers;
But, please don’t think twice, babe - it’s alright.
It was fun while it lasted,
but, as time went past, it
became clear there were some red flags.
Rich girl talk was obscuring these
long-held, deep insecurities
you carried ‘round like an Hermes bag.
Some things you’d said and done were
enough to make me wonder
just what kind of guys you were used to.
Now I see in the paper
that your ex’s behavior
has captured the eyes of the news crew.
You’d sent me a mix CD
with his “Frying Pan” track three -
Seems he’s moved from there into the fire.
You used to say I was sweet;
but it’s not hard to compete
with your randos and Dandos and liars.
Your smoking I could deal with,
but, I’ve got to be real: Fifth
Avenue’s not where to throw the butts.
And, I knew I was done later,
when I watched you treat the waiter
like he was worth less than your mom’s trained mutts.
You came back to Ohio
some weeks later, and I know
it was clear things just weren’t like before.
Said what you say in the end -
claim that you’ll still be friends,
when you know you won’t talk anymore.
I still remember that first night -
walked you back after midnight
to a once-nice hotel dealt some tough blows -
How you held my hand so tight
and said thanks for a great night;
kissed me in the middle of Ludlow.
Not long after you left town
that old hotel was shut down
and our spark went the same way its guests went.
I guess both served their purpose
but, when you look past the surface,
some things just aren’t worth the investment.
Next Week’s Assignment:
If you’re feeling like I am this week, you are a.) not enjoying being an adult and b.) needing a break from reality. Let’s try to address both issues with this week’s assignment: Embrace your childhood by fingerpainting a scene that feels like an escape. Be as literal or as abstract as you like, and use actual fingerpaints or some other viscous substance as your paint, as long as your hands are your brushes.