Clay

You’re clay,
molded by everyone
you’ve shown yourself to.
A piece of everyone that mattered,
lies within you.

This is a beginning;
a hunt for a new hope;
a call for mistakes.
You’ll smile, laugh, mope,
whatever it takes,
for better or for worse.

I want you to carry
every ounce of love you hold onto,
the bulletin of hurt you’re scared of
and, most of all, your curiosity
in your pockets, like rocks.

For out of these rocks will you
build yourself a kingdom huge,
sheltered from the deluge
of anything that could bring you down.

And know that
although I too will be busy
making jewelry out of my hardships,
I’ll set it aside
for a while
to help you find a pearl you lost,
over the phone.

Know that
on days when you’re interrogating
silence for answers, frantically scourging,
or grabbing happiness by her hair,
rejoicing,
I’ll be there.

For you’re clay,
molded by everyone
you’ve shown yourself to.
And I’ve sculpted a part of you
as have you sculpted a part of me.

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