Some people tend to let  holidays linger.  Valentine’s Day is no different. There is still some remnant of it to remind you about it the next day. I’m thinking of the box of cheap chocolate you might have received in a shiny, red heart-shaped box. It’s chocolate, but  you have no idea what is in the middle. You’ve tasted it and let’s face it, on a scale of one to ten you’d give it  a two. Yet this box is still in your possession. You are unable to rid yourself of its presence because it is chocolate.

In honor of the leftovers of Valentine’s Day, I have an acrostic poem. I’m warning you: it is not  sweet like chocolate.

V vague

A assumptions about

L love leaving

E everyone

N nauseated 

T to the point of

I insisting on saying I Love You

N never

E ends well

If you write an acrostic…