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The last sodden tear drenched slice of our chapter, no chipper just chapped, clasped shut against the mound of our storybook. Our fairytale now over but where was the happy ending? It’s more like a tragic Shakespearean love story but even that too had some conviction and morale compass. ‘Where is yours’, I looked down at mine then north to his bare hands, bandying for some fumbled words to help unravel another lie. I kept catching him, red-handed. And with that my disappointment grew stronger - but not at him. But for me. Did I really never see? That he did it all along. As I would skip rings around him, meanwhile he never made me feel I’d belong. So vacant were his cries for help when he beckoned he needed me. Did you only need me because you lost an item and not something you loved dearly?

Will Juliet ever find her Romeo, or is she making another mistake? Seems again she’s projecting a fantasy, a story which is only fake. Used and abused, another battered book. Seems reality never hit home hard enough, so another blow left her shook. Fuck! I’m so fed up. Did I kiss another frog… - forget it - another dragon. Trapped in another dungeon that I never did belong. It seems a million love songs or lurid literature that illuminates my story will never be enough to show how poignant is my fury. Frivolously I keep forgetting his foul-play as I delve into my memories, falling back in love with times that felt like a bedtime story - not a war, that got so gory. And I’m angry, forever, that I didn’t let you go when I should have. I knew you were a lier, so why’d I let you have the last laugh? I need to waver this waste of soul and time, slam it shut and start a new book. I’m already in the new year, already out of luck. Maybe on this open page, a new knight is etched to make his mark. Or maybe he won’t - and maybe I’ll be better off. Maybe I knew the hero all along, and she needs no better half.

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