valentine’s day
Valentine’s Song 3
Share this:
Valentine’s Song 2
Share this:
Valentine’s Song 1
Just a promise.
Share this:
The hats we wear
So, it’s February 14th. Valentine’s day. A made up holiday to start the year of commerce off. But I’m not here to talk about that. Because it’s origin, in this case is irrelevant.
What it is to a symbolist, like myself, is a focal point. A point where love, frustration, longing, and despair all coalesce into a palpable energy.
It is in the jacked up prices at restaurants. The desperate buy and sell of the roadside last minute gift seller. It is in the first kiss of a couple newly found. It is in the soft expression and the held hands. The hope of a little holiday sex and the crushing weight of public happiness in the dark despair of a lonely heart.
So much emotion and motion moving about this day. Easy to use a bit of it for a storm.
And to add a little bit to it.
I’m yours forever, my schmoopy. You are mine.
Life is complicated. But we’ll keep working on making it simpler. Together.
Share this:
For my Valentine
It has been a while since I have been with anyone at this time of year. Mostly I’ve been alone. But I am with someone and she is amazing. But, I post things for her and write things for her. I record things for her. So how to make this special? How to differentiate from the poetry and song? Perhaps just speak plainly? As much as I am capable of doing so, anyway.
We started well. As friends. Getting to know each other through what we write. Hearing your thoughts on what I was working on at the time. (Split Sky)
And little by little I felt like I wanted more. To get to know you more and I vaguely worded it. And you said you wanted in. Just flooring me. That a vague post would prompt exactly the right person. For the blog world, what a delightful meet-cute. And further down the road was cut up and rocky but eventually you found your way back to my door. And my arms. You are mine, my goddess of my heart. I hold you there. Carry you with me. Dream of you. Things are difficult but I think promising.
We’ll get everything we want, if we can hold together.
I love you. Never doubt it.
Share this:
February 14th
Valentine’s day. A day supposedly to demonstrate love to your partner(s). To plan something elaborate. I’m even writing a story based on Valentine’s day. Though that is more about celebrating the more social normative things while existing and living in nonnormative lifestyle. To use it as a excuse for play and special rather than the one or two days a year that people keep as special.
That is the rub. Valentine’s day is one of possibly 3 days a year that it is expected to be special. And most people leave it at that.
That is my problem with it. I may do something special because in our USA society it is ingrained and even if you don’t like it, not doing something is disappointing. But I don’t enjoy being forced into it.
I like romantic gestures and gifts. I like planning scenes or nights out. Writing poems or stories only you will ever see. I consider it vital that any partner of mine is cherished and knows, not just intellectually but bone deep that I love them.
And in a relationship that is all of the little things and small moments compounded by larger gestures.
I guess I just don’t like to be told this is the day you will know my affections. Plus I think the gifts and gestures should be throughout the year. No specific day should be needed for you to know how they feel.
I have friends who are in problematic relationships and while I don’t intervene because doing so would only cause resentment what I’m thinking is this: They made a big gesture when it was socially expected that they would but how do they treat you day to day, how do they demonstrate their love?
Note: Not abusive, problematic. Abusive and I don’t care if they end up hating me, I’ll take action.
Share this:
Valentine’s day
I have the almost overwhelming desire to text my storm and bid her happy Valentines day. She’d either see it as intrusion or as a friendly gesture and as it is neither I refrain. As I must, for though I love, it is not enough. The longing itself is not enough. So once more I let her go. Reluctant I turn my attentions to others who may receive it as welcome.
