He Had Splinters

Once he had a heart,

It was ice cold, slippery,

Callous, and razor sharp,

Now since it broke.

Never to care again,

For trusted confidante

Or intimate friend,

The same way he had.

None proved worthy

As favored companions,

To received the sympathy

He had no more of.

The end of devotion,

To the turbulence

Of his raging emotions,

Is what he had chosen.

There were no moments

For which he had reserved

Little if any sentiment

When others were offended.

Let them too bare the strain,

Since broken hearts aren’t fit

To manage or carry all the pain

That he had found he faced.

His heartlessness was such,

That he had empty spaces

No longer containing much

Of anything good or kind.

Trying to open him up

Revealed he had splinters,

So embracing meant cuts

And sharing only in his agony.
Ria 2016

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