Poetry

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”

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s