Josephine, a love letter

Dear Sweet Josephine,

I remember the last time I held you in my arms, the last time I played you. Though your new strings felt wonderful, it was a sad reminder that I was, in fact, selling you - thus the reason for the new strings at all. Because it had been 3 years since I last gave you any serious attention, 3 years since I attempted the tricky art of strumming and singing at the same time, 3 years since I'd bothered to learn the chords to a Sleater-Kinney or Led Zeppelin song. I knew that our relationship had turned into a cold, cruel one where I lugged you from one closet to another, leaving you dark and unloved in your velvet-lined case.

We have a lot of history together, you and I. From ex-boyfriends to college degrees, you were there for so much. But we both knew that you longed to be played, long to be loved. That brief semester with my brother-in-law gave you the taste you needed of the stage, of blood on your pickups and a song in your heart. Your beautiful, cherry wood heart. You told me you had had enough - you finally knew what you were missing out on, and it was something I could never give to you. I obliged when you finally asked to be let go.

Besides, I wanted a new camera.

May your new owner snap those new strings, wear down your polish, and, of course, get blood on your pickups.

I'll always love you,
Jules