Maybe The Last Time

I am a loyal little beast. Once you have won my love  (and lets face it, that is easy) you will always have it. That love may eventually be silenced and buried, but nevertheless it remains, tricking me to tears when certain songs are played.

My last memory of being with him was at the after school dance group. I no longer felt special, now it was as if there was something very wrong with me. When other children elected me for a lead part he looked at me with horror as if I was poison. He asked everyone disdainfully if I was up to the task?

I had slipped a long way down the food chain. Once I had been talented, unique and loved. Those early grooming days were for me like a door opening to a larger universe in which I was to have a starring role.

Maybe the revulsion in his eyes was a reflection of the loathing in mine (or maybe by eleven I was too old for his tastes). But my emotions covered the spectrum. Yes I hated him, but deep inside the love was still there, like an infected wound.

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