People say time is a circle or line, but really, it’s a
Ray. It has one point fixed ages ago, and the rest shoots out like a line,
Moving forward and forward for all of eternity. Of course, we’re
Nothing more than a line segment, with a specific
Stop and start within. I know all this, but somedays I
Wish time could be a loop and fall back on itself.
Think about it.
The tear dries from the cracked sidewalk.
The moisture leaves the ground back
Onto my face. The wetness absorbs back into my
Eye. My head lifts. And I walk, slowly, slowly,
Backwards and away.
The voices filter throughout my head:
Good luck living in a box
I’m sorry for your loss
Tiger who destroys everything they touch
It’s just a cat
You’ll never make it.
The first pill floats on
My tongue, riding on that sip of water. I swallow.
I knew you would do it
I know you’ll become an author someday.
The second pill sits in my mouth, leaving a
Chalky texture and taste like sand. I want to
Spit it out but swallow. I need to swallow.
And then they’re gone, and I’m alone.
Loving you is like holding a knife, something that’s
Terrifying but necessary. After a while, you forget that this thing can
Kill, but it’s always in the back of your mind, the danger.
Your first owner, seeing your beauty, kept you in a glass case and wanted it that way
Forever. They didn’t see the need for caution;
They didn’t see the potential.
Your second owner didn’t see that same beauty and used you
To cut vegetables and make dinner. You gave her nothing more than
A few cuts on the fingers, and she a duller blade. It was
A healthy relationship. But a knife such as
Yourself can’t stay in a kitchen nor a case. A knife like you
Would always want more, even when you couldn’t see the price.
I never met you third owner, so I don’t know what she did with you. But in her
Hands you showed up everywhere. I couldn’t stand it.
I have yet to own you and probably never will, but I asked her to borrow
You for a moment. With a
Wicked grin, she complied.
You were magnificent.
Gems encased in the hilt, and a vein of gold streaking through
Your core. But you couldn’t deny your nature.
Loving you is like holding a knife.
You were sharp and dangerous, but I didn’t
Care. I didn’t heed the warning signs.
No wonder I got knifed.
Grace Nask will be attending the Philadelphia Writers’ Conference in the fall. She has had or will have work published by Fledgling and Down in the Dirt Literary Magazine. One could learn more about her by visiting her website at https://gracenask.wixsite.com/books and her WattPad (under Grace Nask) and Facebook (as Grace Nask’s Books and Manuscripts) profiles.