New Love For Something Used

It wasn’t the kind of love where I madly fell head over heels at first sight. You were hardly the best in anything, but never the worst either. Candy red and white you were not the prettiest nor the ugliest. You were what you were. You were what I could afford. You were what seemed right for me at the time.

And I didn’t care that you were with someone before me. That was what I expected, I didn’t believe that you would be virginal. That was rather the point. I wanted you to be used, maybe loved at some point, but not so loved that you couldn’t be parted with. Then, when I found you, you weren’t loved at all. I entered where you lived and there you were, propped against a chair and partly sprawled on the floor. I bought you for less than what was asked of me, and you came willingly. I didn’t know much about you, I had only seen your sisters and cousins and they were better and more professional. You came as you originally entered the world, cheap and in need of a good home and a good pair of hands.

I struggled with you. Your voice was harsh and grainy and your mids swelled out of proportion to what your natural self should be like. When I slid my fingers across you they felt like they would bleed and fall to pieces. But I stayed with you. There was something about you that I wanted to know more about.

So I continued.

I learned more about you. I struggled and tried and discovered what you could and would do as well as your don’ts and maybes. I could tell, just after a while, that you needed more from me. So I took a trip out west. I knew it wouldn’t cost me much, and for you I thought it was worth it. You needed more and I knew that what I would bring back would help you sing.

It looks like an orange box to someone who knows little to nothing about what you are or what you need, but I knew what I was getting. It would open you up, bring you to your limits, and develop you in ways that your little black box never could. And you did sing. You sang loudly at times. The floor reverberated and the neighbors surely heard you, but I didn’t care and neither did you.

Now we are inseparable. I spend hours with you and my fingers no longer hurt and you sound better with each day. I’m learning too. I promised that to you and myself. Right now, it’s just the basics, everyone starts there, but I’ll add in more. It won’t be long now either since I understand more about how you work and how to use my fingers — which you like so much. They were clumsy at first, but they’re more and more skillful each day.

And that’s just what I needed to say. You’ve stolen my time, you’ve stolen my mind, and the past week with you has been incredible. I hope this lasts, it will last, and you will too.

— To my lovely red & white Strat and deep orange Orange

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