many splintered thing


the saying goes that love is a many splendored thing,

the fine print though is that it entirely depends on the person dispensing said love

there are those who seek to be air,

breathing life and laughter so deep that you have no choice but to grow, to fly

there are also those who seek to be splinters,

slashing you just a little bit with words, actions, dismissals, doubts

some of us have grown so accustomed to the consistency of the pain that all we do is quickly acknowledge it and move right along 

paying no mind to the number of scars that have accumulated 

bearing no witness to the need for change

until it is too late

until those splinters – with every tug, every rip – change the very fabric of who we are 

Copyright © 2017 Tamika Brown and TheFynePrynt.com 

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love … lost

I should not have said I love you

It was perhaps the most wrong thing I could do
Those words, so powerful, so true.

Those words can raise spirits that are strong enough to receive them

But for those that are not, those words come back as broken glass

Cutting ever deeper the vulnerable flesh of the one who dared utter them

I should not have said I love you

It was perhaps the most wrong thing I could do

You were not ready to receive them

You were not ready to hold them, to keep them safe

You were not ready to return that love

Only, broken glass.

Copyright © 2017 Tamika Brown and TheFynePrynt.com