Why do you use me like this?
You take me to your skin and then put me back away.
Why do you hide me?
Are you ashamed of me? Embarrassed of me?
Is it my metal skin that is now turning orange?
Your skin is so soft – silky even,
It doesn’t feel right that you use me
My sharp spine is used to be used to sharpen your pencils.
I’ve been in your purse a while now – too long
Where have you gone?
Just like that, as I begin to feel unwanted, you pull our packaged home out,
We’re both waiting for your choice to be made when you pick me up.
I feel the warmth of your fingertips and I feel needed, loved, special.
Tears fall out of your eyes, again, again, again,
Don’t be upset,
I will make you feel better.
I always do.
You place my body on your skin,
It feels so worn, not the silkiness I’m used to,
I don’t remember it being like this the last time you used me
Have you been using someone else?
I begin my process,
I slide across your skin like never before.
The force of your fingertips on my spine hurts
Why are you being so rough?
I finish my crimson masterpiece,
Satisfied and fatigued, you put me back away.
My friend looks at me angrily; it’s not my fault you chose me this time.
My body feels blunt and used more than ever before,
I hope you use my friend next time.
Your skin is a battlefield, pieces of shredded art,
I no longer want to be your knight in shining armour.