“She’s gone away like the words that we say
She’s gone like the day you first heard her name
She’s gone like that day she said she’d love you just the same .” -Julie C., “Precious Love”
I’m stuck on her fairy tale, the one she built from the ground up when no one was looking. I was looking. How can I stop? When everyone is fighting for this precious love, she sits pretty picking her suitors apart, one for the clandestine meetings behind the nightclub, another to suit her ego, the front, the hag. So many broken bones, false promises, the veneer of forever, when I can’t even hold onto to the one who got away.
Every other night I stare at her ever-changing Facebook profile, feeling small and ugly, shooting blanks. Tonight, I finger myself to strangers on a moving screen, pretending I used to be them together before she cut a raw deal. I will say his name, dirty and cheap.
Why can’t I let him go the way she did? He doesn’t care. Oh Carol he doesn’t want your words, or your precious love.