Bad and ugly

Old drafts that need to go somewhere other than my gmail account. Posted here mostly for posterity and to see if anything can be made out of any of them. (Eventually).

Apparently valentine's day makes me emo. Awesome. All of the below are from the enormous pity party I threw for myself on Feb 14th.

* * *

It's late on a Sunday and I should be asleep.
Resting for another week of paper shuffling.
Instead I'm watching Vivian Leigh and
Clark Gable with the lights off.
Shivering on the couch in the gray-blue light,
I'm half-asleep and already missing wood-burning stoves,
iced-over cabins, reading by candlelight,
and the steady, dependable sound
of someone else's breathing.

* * *

February Fourteenth

Shoveling snow that morning, she imagined
how things might be different if three years
earlier instead of saying "Let's hang out sometime."
She had said "I'm crazy about you."
Things may be the same. She could still
be lonely in the middle of February, shoveling snow.
Or she might be living abroad, digging wells
and teaching English. They could be
sharing a walk up apartment, backpacking
the Pacific Crest trail, fighting about who forgot to feed
the dog that morning. He could have broken up with
her years ago, or find himself perparing to purpose
over dinner. At 7:15 in the morning, shoveling
snow, the important thing was simply
that she had never been able to say anything..

* * *

I'm So Emo

I don't want to hear that I'm capable,
funny, smart. A catch. Someone anyone
would be lucky to share their life with.
I'd rather sit next to you, here on the couch,
drink this bottle of wine, and watch a movie
without a happy ending.