What is more pathetic than watching Veronica Mars on Valentine's Day?

Reading comics and watching This Old House while eating a cinnamon roll in bed in sweats. RAAAAAAAAAWWWWWWWRRRRRRR! Still single!

Anyway, I've been pondering posting the occasional poem. I've always been fond of this particular poem- though almost everyone I know hates it. But it is my blog so nya.

(Please don't sue me.)

So here it is:

Robert Creeley's Eros

Also the headache of
to do right by feeling
it don't matter, etc.

But otherwise it was one, or even two
the space of, felt

and one night I said to her, do you
and she didn't.