Like a Dog on a Bone

"I do believe/You are what you perceive/What comes is better/Than what came before."
                                                                                                                 -- Lou Reed, VU




Each time is like the first. And this is it: I'm fine. Until they're happy with someone else. Then I can't let go and won't let go until I find someone else myself. Which I can't do this time. Too dangerous. So. I want them to be happy. I do. I don't like the pain, but my mind always knows: this will never work. Suffer briefly now and be done with it. Oh, but the ego, she gets in and shatters me. I want everyone I care about to be happy. But that little girl heart, she doesn't understand why she can't have what she wants. She just doesn't know what's good for her. And like a foolish, curious cat, she seeks out her own destruction--hand to a hot flame she knows will burn to the heart of her. Dwelling on a long-gone past, every now and then, but when it hits, it hits like a nail to the heart and despite all the attention--the sweet offerings from all over--she takes to the rotten flesh of a buried bone, and gnaws on it with her head in the sand. If only she could pledge allegiance like a dog, and gracefully not give a shit like a cat, man, these foolish luxury ruminations of a long-gone whatever-it-was would have dissolved into the sunset long ago, leaving room for the sunrises of this glorious east coast. We all deserve love. Even me. If I turn forward instead of back, whatever I find in front of me, is better than what's behind me.

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