Here is me, door mat

Here is me, patio stone, a rock for stepping on.

One of many that line the driveway.

Here I am, gravel path, crunched and pushed down deeper into the soil. My apologies for not molding myself to fit your foot in anticipation of your step.

Here is me, a blade of grass bent at a painful, sharp angle so that you could get where you are going a second faster. Sorry for slowing you down.

Here I am, the bottom step. I know I am just a means to the top, I don’t mind that you land here momentarily and are gone. I know my place. I’m comfortable with it.

Here is me,  your door mat. I waited, clean and fresh for you.

You were late.

Your boots are muddy, your shoes are wet.

This feeling is unpleasant.

You need to go.

I tried to be everything for you, but not this. Not anymore.

I am door mat no longer.