Ninety-Nine Valentines

I bought her ninety-nine Valentines:
One for each day of the past three months, or so.
I wrote her; ‘We are shadows, cast by love,
while love itself is a reverse shadow,
cast inwards, to illuminate the soul.’
I baked a sponge cake in a heart shape
and covered it with icing, coloured pink.
I dared to show her my operation scar,
then we made sure everything was still in good nick.
She showed me a blister pack of pills
and revealed that she had missed a day,
but was taking an extra one to catch up.
From this ramshackle account of events,
I had hoped to build a sonnet, but no such luck.