Silver

I used to call her my snugly wrapped little bundle of joy. She was everything to me. You could ask me to define ‘everything’, but in this case it would be sooooo difficult. Anyway she was something special, I think you understand that much.
Well, we were inseparable her and I, during those five years not a day went by when I didn’t hold her or push her to my lips, close, yes, that’s the way; gently at first, teasing me with the anticipation before the sudden rush of pleasure. Yeah, I think its true to say she got pretty hot at times.
What’s that, her name? Well I’ve tried to forget it, I mean I never called her by it anyway. There was only one person who heard me use her real name – a mate of mine – works down the paper shop. Anyway I used to otherwise refer to her as ‘Silver’. It was my pet name for her – I hoped it would make her feel special, like she was precious somehow, like she was worth so much to me, and made me feel like a rich, rich man.
Of course I wasn’t rich in the monetary sense of the word. Mind you she didn’t seem to care, and then again it’s probably fair to say that my lack of funds was largely down to her. It didn’t matter to me. I would have gladly spent twice what I earned on her; that’s how much she meant to me. But still it wasn’t meant to be.
It’s true to say ours wasn’t the healthiest of relationships. There was always the flame, the passionate heat; but it was lust, not love. I was scared of getting burned and sought solace in the arms of another, whom I grew to love. Still though I found myself going back to my Silver. She was like an obsession - an addiction some would call it.
But my guilt about my dirty secret grew. How long could I keep this from my beloved? This question would soon be answered when she caught us together in the garden shed.
She was angry at first. She thought it was disgusting. I begged for forgiveness, I grovelled. I got down on my knees and pleaded with her. I even asked her to marry me (I guess you say stupid things in these kind of situations).
Then came the ultimatum: ‘I’ll marry you on the condition that you give her up’ – or words to that effect. Anyway it came down to a choice between the two, my sensibilities took over and the wedding was on.
Since then I’ve tried to stay away from her. Sure I’ve seen her down the pub and that, but I generally try to stay out of her way. Ironic, isn’t it, that I gave her up for a silver-plated manacle, a circular symbol of ownership. Still I do look and feel better for it.
But you know every now and then, when the patches wear off, I just sit there and think about how much I miss those damn cigarettes!