handle with care


Choosing to love

Having love choose you

Perfectly imperfect

Always moving

Always changing

Always growing

Evolving or devolving

Handle with care

 

Even if not by choice

Even if not given in the way we anticipate

If not received in ways that we hoped

If not shared

If not multiplied

Handle with care

 

The divinity of love is really unmatched

There is nothing quite like it

We all want to feel it

We all want to be bathed in it

We all want

it

 

But when it comes and it is not in the form that we so desire

That we’ve prayed for

That we’ve wished for

That we have determined is the ideal

 

Then what?

What happens to that love?

What happens when we stop handling it with care?

What happens when we stop appreciating it, take it for granted?

When we decide that it is not enough?

When we make those decisions and not focus on what love is

what it is meant to be

what its true divinity is

then

 

We tear down

We tear up

destroy

Hurt those around us

Especially those who love us

in word and deed

Handle with care

 

 Love

It is not for possession, to be possessed to be given as a possession

it is merely to be

It is to teach

It is to behold

It is to celebrate

It is all these things

It is none of these things

It is everything

 

To anyone who has ever wanted it

To anyone who has ever thought they had it

Anyone who has truly achieved this divinity

It is hurtful

It is painful

It does not have to be

But

That is what we make it

Because we cannot

Decide

 

We want to get high

we want to stay high

And for anyone who has ever dabbled in things that get you high

You know, those things, don’t keep you there

The same is true with love

Handle with care

 

If you are unable to handle it with care

Then surely, you shouldn’t handle it at all.

Copyright © 2017 Tamika Brown and TheFynePrynt.com

Image: blamethedragon 

 

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never.the.less


she toiled 

she labored

she was snatched from her home land

she was torn from her children, 

and they, away from she

she was stolen from her own body,

dispossessed as nonchalantly as you please

she birthed

she buried

she grew angry

she grew weary

she fought 

she {somehow} held fast

she prayed

she cried

she empowered, even those who only love her when it suits their best interests

she screamed

she sought vengeance

she listened

she learned

she grew

she took flight

she keeps pushing, even though they keep yelling, spitting, cursing her to stop

she forgives

she loves

she strives

she teaches

she brings forth

she hands down

she lifts up

she persisted. 

nevertheless.

even before they ever thought that it was a righteous thing to do.

Copyright © 2017 Tamika Brown and TheFynePrynt.com

Image: tijienenetalks

… gone



what is it with this thing
this thing between you and me

this thing that keeps growing 

keeps changing

devolving 

deescalating

driving rivers and driving wedges 

firmly between our shores

caught within the clasp

of a million minutes past

bringing it up

sinking us down

leaving not even enough room for light

much less love

rushing ever swifter towards a calling that cannot be denied

but a calling that leaves me

not by your side.

Copyright © 2017 Tamika Brown and TheFynePrynt.com

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