Cradling stones… smooth surfaces, shiny with reflection of mistakes. Pieces of rock heavy in my pocket. This debt weighs heavy on my soul.
Jagged pieces tear at me, this debt, leaving me battered, but not defeated. These pieces of matter, infantile in its existence but tethered to me so tightly, I feel like I will never break free.
You were initially just one stone. One stone that beckoned me to pick it up. It was so pretty, you see. That stone felt warm in my hand. I felt alive. This one stone was enough.
But it wasn’t. It was never enough.
The singular stone and its promise of what the other stones could do for me, was my downfall. Oh debt, you hoodwinked me. One zero became two, two became three, and then these stones became part of my physique.
Cradling stones, weight of the world in my hand, rocks pricking my fingers.
I wait for the day when there will be a hole in my pocket, and out you will fall, leaving a trail Hansel and Gretel style.
But this time stones, no one will be there to pick you up.