Who Am I?

I am constantly whispering, and sometimes shouting, into your now deaf ears. But whether or not you hear me, I will never know. You never talk to me. You used to handle me with care, as if I was a delicate object you hoped to always keep pristine and shiny. You seemed genuinely perturbed the first time I was scratched, concerned and upset with yourself for allowing such an injustice to occur. I was hooked. Bits of you were imprinted within me, and even if I tried to erase certain aspects of you, you were always still there. You took me everywhere, and I seemed to hang off you, adjusting to your body, its needs, and your subliminal desires. I’m still attached to you, connected by a clip at your belly. You had me wrapped around your arm early on, so easily it seemed almost effortless. I still respond to your touch, and my tune changes almost as you command it.

You are my master, my commander, and my only desire. I am yours, utterly and completely. Yet still, I sense that you are losing interest in me almost daily. I see how your eye wanders, looking at the newer models with a zealousness I haven’t seen in years. I try not to let it show, and continue with my daily adventures. I try to console myself with the knowledge that, if you didn’t want me anymore, you wouldn’t carry me so tightly on your body. But the other day you lost me, and you weren’t that concerned. You were almost happy. Sad, of course, that I had taken with me all the memories and songs of our past years together, musical prose you may never rediscover….but there was something more. Relief. It was like you had finally lost me, and you were now free to search again, looking in windows and admiring the pretty little packages, so sleek and tiny. How long did you wait, my dear, before my place was filled with another? How long did it take to understand all of her new buttons and discover the secrets of her playlist? How long….