I Stab my Friends in the Front and Then Hug Them. (Part II)

I am the alabaster vial that carried the blessing.
My whole self emptied to you in a moments spark.

I am the bowl that held that water that washed those feet.
I am cracked now but that’s not important.

I am the child that you placed above all others.

I am the friend who caries the back left corner of the mat.
The one that carries he whom you prefer most.

I am he one who sits listening while others toil.
I just sit and watch your face because I can.

I am the one whose chosen weapon is my knees in the sand.