You pressed down on my carbon body and said it is to make me into a diamond.

I let you.

I wanted to be the perfect, bright stone the world put on a pedestal to adore.


I basked in the pressure you put on me,
ignored the cracks,
the powder that drifted down my hands like falling sand.


I did not know how they chip away at diamonds to make them smooth and shimmering.

Shrink them, only to regret it later.


It hurt, but I let your steamroll compress on my carbon arms,

rolling my eyes as you taught me at the rockes that slipped out of your grip.


Even the ones that got away praised my endurance.

They didn't see the sweat dripping down, the heat in my eyes.

Or maybe they did and thought it was a price I am willing to pay.


The world taught me that diamonds are the most beautiful stones,
so I let you wash me of color.

Helped you peel away my blue and red and yellow,
leaving nothing but a hollow reflection of the world.


Staying up at night, I felt the weight of you,
always,
pushing down at my lunges, seizing my heart.


Even when I was away, I still felt your unrelenting hold,
putting my head between your fingers and demanding I will not look away.


You pressed and compressed but I didn't turn to diamond,

I turned to dust.