Saturday, December 29, 2012

Sticky pieces

I don't sell my trust.

It's not something you will find me standing on a street corner with, set out on a blanket with shiny baubles and trinkets. Individually sealed packets of my trust, like potpourri, free with purchase.

It is a living and breathing thing. I see it, golden honey trust, sticky and sweet to taste. Few ever will and when I share it, if I share it, then you have the mythical Ambrosia of The Gods, tho you may not realize it as you lick it off your fingers.

This is the rarest part of me, and I keep it hidden and guarded, locked in its very own Ivory Tower. The light of day never finds its way to this part, this sticky piece of me. I cant afford to let it stick to you because some of it leaves, never to return to me and there is a limited supply. Once I let some out, even if I take it back, a little piece of me is gone forever and it wont be replenished.

So what is this now? My foolishness? My recklessness? All these years to grow wise and now my trust is stuck to you, and it is dark, and it is dirty from only those things that taint it... And I dont want it back. It belongs to you now. Sticky on your fingers and no longer golden. Will you still lick it off? Will it churn in your belly instead of fill you with warmth?

Or will you sell it to someone else? Tainted trust, half off. Can you wash it off and feel clean and forget it was ever there to begin with? As easily disposed of as it was to disregard?

Do I just take whats left back to my tower? Lock it away where I should of left it and relearn the lesson I thought I already had, and watch that golden sweet piece turn bitter and dark on its own, with no light or love..and become a shadow..a sticky piece that thrives in hidden places that is passed over with so little regard.

I do not sell my trust.

But I want it to stay alive.