Aw shit, it’s St. Valentine’s Day
I remember there was a period
when all I seemed to write about
was how I longed for love with overwrought
sentimentality, dripping with the
flowery language of “romance”.
Now, all I can think is,
“Aw Shit, it’s Valentine’s Day…”
I don’t hate romance, or love poetry.
I don’t begrudge anyone their romantic
I’m a big fan of love and romance,
but I’m getting more used to the idea that
I’ll be one of those that just goes without.
Sure, I’m loved in platonic and family ways,
I love others in the same vein. We don’t
send Valentine’s to each other or make
romantic showings. It’s a Hallmark holiday
without anything real for those relationships.
There’s no need for weeping sentiment
or rosy worded greeting cards covered in
silver glitter around felt hearts. That’s something
couples do, or married folks, or maybe schoolboys
send to their crushes.
I’ll watch TV at home on Valentine’s Day,
I’ll do my normal things. Normal stuff like pining for
love with that special woman that sparks
my heart into action, eat a microwave dinner,
look out the window, go to bed.
So Aw Shit…,
shit, shit, shit.
Another Valentine’s Day without
that special wink, nod, smile, hand holding,
hair flip, kiss, or otherwise intimate gyration.