"i hope he bought you roses."

"every song has a you, a you that the singer sings to. you're it this time. baby, you're it this time."

four years ago, a boy showed up at my door with a dozen roses and my heart to match.

the ones in between have been less than memorable, but each year, he held my hand in the morning ... looked into my eyes ... and said, "will you be my valentine?"

punk rock boy meets punk rock girl.

every year he remembered to leave flowers on my computer so that i'd find them when i got home from work. every year i loved him more than i thought i would ever love anyone.

hear it, feel it through that thick in your bone, exhaust it with the possibilities and love that goddamn smile. but don't you forget to be grateful, and don't you forget to hold that hand with the most tender loving grip you could ever imagine.

fuck valentine's day, and pour me another shot.