Throw Back: Tough as Nails

I could pretend that I am tough as nails.
But your hammer would release me;
And as I was ripped from the wall-
Where I once supported the frames which encompassed your treasured memories,
You could unconsciously step back and allow me to fall to the ground,
So that my rusty exterior-
Would never again stain your hand. 

You would pick me up carefully with your left hand (the non-dominant one),
Observe my new worn color,
How what was once so clean and shiny-
So straight and as close to perfection as you’ve ever held in your possession,
Is now bent out of shape, rusty and without -
The fortitude to withstand -
The penetration caused by your aggressively gentle pounding.

You hold me now between the tips of your fingers-
Instead of the palm of your hand.
You turn me around-
Close your eyes and revisit our experiences ,
The way that I once fit so perfectly-
Every position and place you used me-
When you needed me, I was always there.
Every time you moved-
Wanted to change my place or position,
Or simply redecorate-
You gently pulled me out,
placed me neatly into your toolbox,
and brought me back out- to life when it was our time together again.

But like most things, time moves along,
Allows us to see things differently,
Change our minds-
Close and reopens our hearts-
Changes our style-
Or gives us the opportunity to “redecorate”,
And this is where we are now.

So you smile as you think about our journey together,
And smile again as you think about your new frames,
And recent memories-
And how I will no longer quite sustain the places where you will need me to be.
So you drop me on the table,
While you pick up your shiny new nail, 
placing it in the palm of your right hand (your dominate hand)-
And then you place it where you want it,
And hang the frame-
Which now holds OUR memories.
You center it perfectly,
Smile as you think about your future with it.
And all the while you do not notice me,
Looking up at you-
And thinking of how that was once my job-
To hold your frames; to keep the memories fresh and alive.
How I was once that shiny new nail,
The one you were careful, gentle, protective and kind to,
The one you loved so much- 
You carried it with you always, even if only in thought.
The one that had its own special section in your toolbox.

And now that you are done with me,
This time-
Instead of putting me away carefully until you will need or desire me again,
You throw me away in your trashcan,
Like others before me-
And you walk away never looking back, not even seeing me fall.

And I try to pretend that I am tough as nails,
And that even though your hammer has released me forever,
I can withstand my new place, this new position I am in,
Until someone else comes along-
Sees the beauty through my rusty, bent, used form-
But loves, needs, supports, and desires to use me forever.