February

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic
just something i started writing at starbucks about my year(s)

Submitted: February 28, 2008

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Submitted: February 28, 2008

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How many months? How many days? 5 months and counting. Days? I don’t know. Does it matter? Every year It’s the same thing. The same routine. Floating on through the fall . Then dragging. Dragging on through the frozen gray repetitive winter that brings Christmas and anticipation. Until. Until it’s all snatched right out from under you and it throws you out in the cold harsh January. And then January takes no mercy on you. And demands you with a stern finger pointed towards February to go on. And then February… February tortures you and rips the life and energy from you, complete with a full dose of gray and slush and snow… That you wanted in December Even January would have been alright. But now the snow is the outcast, the trend that was IN last season but is now discarded in the sale rack of discount department stores. Unwanted. Now, everyones after the new trend. Spring. Gray is out, pastels are in. But February doesn’t care. It doesn’t care and its out to get you with it’s long dreary and windy claws. And your stuck in the snow. You can’t escape. Then February tells you what you can and cannot do. And it will restrict you from any kind of fun or happy moment. In February, the rules are strict, and if you break them… February will try to erase and fade all the colors of your joyous memories. And rules become even stricter. The rules of only work and no play. Going from one miserable February sickened place to another, only to do more miserable February labor. The work that never seems to matter in the end… Those are the rules. That’s how it was. For the last few years. It’s not much different now. Now I’m fighting my way through February somewhere else Somewhere new. With new people. It’s been 5 months. And how many days? I don’t know. 5 months ago we met. I didn’t like you. And now it’s February again. And I couldn’t imagine anyone else I’d rather battle along beside me. Through this cold February… That will one day be March… And then April… Then It’ll be June all of a sudden and I’ll be gone to do what I need to do. And so will you. And then September will come. Then it’ll have been a year. And we’ll hold hands, take a deep breath… And jump in again… Only to find ourselves Back in February.


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