The authors wanted to surprise you Valentine.
They got you something Valentine.
They all chipped in.
A bouquet of dirty, cynical, sometimes sappy haiku.
For you, Valentine.
A hot and dirty Valentine’s day haiku:
You are my coffee:
hot, cheap, and I like you best
all over my crotch.
A moderately suggestive Valentine’s day haiku:
Mountains look just like
Giants sleeping and snoring.
Dreaming of beanstalks.
A longing Valentine’s day haiku:
Young girl with hair dye,
Underneath a starbuck’s hat:
You only live once.
A gift, an order, a vagina monologue:
Wrapped in a pink bow,
filled with a tasty cordial.
Eat my heart shaped box.
A haiku encouraging shared-festering-joyful-love-sores:
Wear a red blouse.
Kiss a stranger on the mouth.
Spread V-day disease.
A subtle Valentine’s day haiku:
Windy valentine.
Make my leaves chime with your tongue.
By leaves, I mean cock.
Dear Valentine,
If we washed ashore
on “Fuck, Marry, Kill” Island,
we’d totally fuck.
A Valentine’s day proposal:
Today, let’s smoke pot,
Listen Mumford and Sons,
and fuck in the tub.
I love everything about you, valentine:
You like anyone?
Swear I won’t tell, cross my heart.
Kim? I heard she stuffs.
This Valentine’s day, create a garden for your love:
Since you go downtown,
I cleaned things up a wee bit.
Gentrification!
The more adventurous, consider:
For this special day,
I have bleached my ass hole clean.
So you may tongue it.
Remember your sweetie this Valentine’s day:
I only kissed you
because I was blackout drunk.
You smelled like garbage.
Alone? Remember:
V Day is made for
Needy bookworm women and
Sappy high school kids.
The honest truth:
I wrote this poem
so you’d think I’m really sweet.
Not so you’d fuck me.