The Three Cs

I’m tired of being a secret
A long hidden diamond
Bloodied by your misuse
What I thought a careful caress
Are your smeared fingerprints
Made with my essence
You cut me deep
Dulled my color
Robbed me of clarity
Mounted me on a pedestal
Where you could make me look small
As I, childlike, clung to your finger
On the hand you hide in your back pocket
But, I caught a glimpse of the light
Of the others you show off like trophies
The ones you eventually throw away
Because none of them match what I was
Before you got ahold of me
I realized finally
I have to leave you behind
I constrict until your finger swells and breaks
This is my moment to be coveted
Like the precious gem I am
You are less without me
But, I am less with you


2 thoughts on “The Three Cs”

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