a splinter, really, nothing more.
it’s only buried so deep.
a tweeze, a pull, and you should be done,
but instead you let it keep.
you remind yourself, a little one,
a promise that you made.
but, long did you forget the thought,
so unfortunately it stayed.
some nights had passed, the infection grew,
and discomfort swept the floor.
a tweeze, a pull, a little blood—
the splinter would be no more.
but, you cleaned around it tenderly
and covered it with care
maybe to remove it soon,
but the splinter stayed right there.
a year has passed and you’re bleeding dry.
you try to heal, but you know why
you can’t stop hurting while all along
the splinters lodged in so deep, so strong.
you claw and you dig and cry some more,
and you know that there’s more pain in store,
but sadness is as sadness goes and
removing it is such a chore. so
give up, girl. you’ve nothing left
and while you wait to catch your breath
remember that, a year ago,
a promise taunts to be let go.
a mindless thought—to be carefree.
a painless morning splinter-free—
that is what you silently hoped
and wished for what your life could be.
but now, the splinters part of you.
the infection’s gone, the wound has closed,
and the skin has healed and sealed it in and
now, just an scar of what once was.
a splinter, really, sharp and absorbed—
a splinter that shouldn’t have been ignored.
so, you gather yourself and prepare for the worst
and decide the best thing to is to dive in headfirst.
raw and, regrettably, very damaged—
you prod some more and somehow you managed
to dislodge the thing and yank it free.
now, you leave the wound to be.
the splinter’s gone and the gash is fresh,
but you don’t think twice about the mess.
so, you cover it with care and there within
that promise begs to be let in.
and you welcome her with open arms and
realize, as you take in her charm,
that all that had stopped her at the door
was just a splinter, really, nothing more.