What am I? (trying something different)

Here I sit, day after day.  Hanging on the edge of a cup.  The side of the cup separates me from my opposing twin.  When the girl comes, she claims me.  Using me to fix, her perception of, what is wrong.   

The girl doesn’t ask my permission.  She lifts me from my post and puts me to work.

She assumes I am ready and waiting for her.   Which I am.  But she shouldn’t assume this. 

My opposing twin is useless without me.  And I without it.  Together we work to change the canvas. 

Sometimes she uses me up top.  Sometimes in the middle.  Sometimes on the bottom.   The canvas is the same.  That is, until my work changes it. 

My work, however, doesn’t last.   The work I do is temporary.  But that means job security, I guess. 

Sometimes she doesn’t use me.  I may not be right for the job.  She, sometimes, uses the purple one.  But I know, I do a better job.  More thorough.

The purple one goes with her.  I don’t know why the girl chooses to take that one.  It hurts me.  I’d like to go too. 

 I’ve been with her for many years, through thick and thin.  When times are thick, I make them thin.  Then times are thin, I sit and wait. 

My paint is peeling.  The girl sends me away sometimes.  I come back to her renewed, wrapped safe and snug.  Bubble wrap protects me from them and protects them from me.

Once she left me in the car while she went on vacation.  I should have gone along, but I was not allowed to accompany her, at the time.   My picture was posted.  They called me dangerous.  Anyone who would use me to do harm should consider broadening their horizons.  For I am small, and any harm I could do would be minimal. 

I am called upon in times of frustration.  But when my work is finished, the girl is happy.  Until tomorrow,  when I am, again, put to work. 

The girl examines herself in the mirror and then uses me to fix the problems.   As the girl ages, she needs light to allow me to do my best work.  She pinches me and pulls, pinches and pulls, but I do not feel violated.  This is my purpose.

My work is fast, but lasts for a little while.   I know I make a difference in her life.   She stares and stares and stares.  She looks for trouble.  And she usually finds it. 

I believe I am useful to her.    Although, I long to be with her.  I want to be tucked in that little bag with all of the pots and brushes.  It would be nice to make new friends. 


One Response to “What am I? (trying something different)”

  1. heather Says:

    how has no one answered this?? You’re a tweezer!!

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