Dear Dagger,
I've held you long enough and need to let you go. You've been under my coat as I walk the street, on rainy nights when the train rushed by. I've gripped you tighter than I needed to, especially when I heard footsteps behind me, listening as I walked, to hear if they were drawing near.
I've placed you in the holster, muscle memory. I've kept you at my side even when I'm having tea, because I didn't completely trust my company.
I've kept you when you're sharp, and kept you for years until you were dull. Yet I knew I would be able to use you effectively with extra muscle.
Now, I want to drop you on the floor, hear it clatter and have nothing to defend myself with other than fists and feet. Moreso, to not live in constant battle mode.
Farewell Dagger, thank you for being at my side.
Sincerely,
Faith