14 days, and the demon rares it's Ugly Head

I hate the First of February, I feel like Prometheus, every year regrow my expecations just to have them torn down. Bashed three ways from Sunday. I feel like I sit there watching the days fly off the calendar, with increasing speed as that damned day approaches. Then the demon rares it's little head.

Swinging from my minds rafters, the little banshee screams 'Long Live Singlehood!' 'Single women rock' And everywhere I look there are couples kissing and hugging as cards go flying left right and off kilter! Save my little soul!

That demonette hisses as I pass shop windows with there overstuffed oversized blood red hearts beating to cikly romantic boy band lyrics, little did they know that that is the price of falling in love. A ripped out bloody throbbing heart.

And I'm sure one of these days just to put a silver poker through this demons heart, I'll have a wonderful valentines, no cards, no roses, no dinner restaurants with other annoying couples holding hands and helping the corporate world roll out yet another consumer happy spending report. I'll have a glass of wine, a hug, and a kiss. Maybe some mboga and ugali by candle light just to disprove the fact. In fact I'll even settle for a simple phone call to say,' Today like every other day, I think of you' Somehow even if the demonette wouldn't die painfully, it'll definitely have her going to haunt some other singles bar.