Stop playing it
stop playing it
20 times in succession
you stay in your room
dumped by the CB boy and
you write feverish stories - what we might now
term slash fiction - about your infatuation with
Marc Almond, how if you met
he would be struck by the certainty that
you were the one, the one
the only one he ever needed
How your aching gutterhearts
would blend in crimson unison
Return the needle to the groove
give it another play
and write the scene where Marc declares you to be
his eternal soulmate
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