Diamonds Are A Girl’s Best Friend

Just like last time and the time before that, after he had wiped off the cum from his pants, he rushed out the door; one thing was different though: this time, he didn’t bother to pretend to be sad when he said goodbye.

With a cigarette lodged inside my rusty yet still fashionable cigarette holder, I lean my head against the board, wanting to believe that the footsteps I can hear are from him and not just from the bellboy delivering room service to the couple fucking at the next room. I’m wrong, of course, and I knew that, but a girl can wish, can’t she?

I straightened my nightgown, plucking a hairstrand from my waist. Still have almost an hour left in this room, might as well take advantage. Not as if there’s anything else to do tonight; I cancelled going out with a friend, expecting I’d spend more time with him tonight. Of course I was wrong, and I knew that, but a girl can wish, can’t she?

Everytime now, it has been getting more and more different. Gone were the days when the two of us would lock eyes across the party, and he’d raise his glass ever so slightly to give me a toast. His arm was around his wife’s, so it was a game, such as that he was speaking to her, but in reality his remarks were directed at me. I was lonely that time, wondering if this gracious man would be with me and fulfill his promise of leaving her to stay. I was, of course, wrong, and I knew that, but a girl can wish, can’t she?

The necklase he gave me when we first had sex sparkled against my cigarette holder. These rocks were a happier time. He held me by the waist as he clipped it around my neck. Diamonds, he said. Diamonds are forever. I turned around to see my reflection on the mirror — tall and lanky with kinky hair, but the necklase pulled it all together. I was a star that night, and I made sure he never would forget it. I was wrong, of course, and I knew that, but a girl can wish, can’t she?

Tonight, my reflection bounced against the mirror a different woman. Not the glamorous star that appeared weeks ago, but not the lanky girl before. I did not recognize the woman in front of me. The necklace felt like a collar, programmed to make me feel and do whatever he said. It was coal weighing my neck down. And I wanted to take it off. Desperately, wanting to let my neck loose again. I grasped it with both hands, believing I could just tear it off and go on with the rest of my life.

I was wrong. Of course. And I knew that. But a girl can wish. Can’t she?

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This is the 100 Songs Project, a 100-day writing challenge based on AFI’s 100 Years…100 Songs. Every day, I write a short poem, prose piece, or play based on, reacting to, rejecting, accepting, or doing something related to one of the songs in the top 100 list.

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