Transport

Transport

I collect the burrs you leave behind- those clinging to my clothes and scratching at my tender skin- and put them in a jar labeled with your name.  Each prickled barb, a gift from an intransigent friend.

I do not keep them in resentment- or to show you later how many of your words snagged my flesh

     Made me bleed

but because they are from you- because they are enduring- unlike fast fading flowers-

because I understand you better than you think.

These burrs that stab and cling with tiny hooks, desperate for transport, were meant to repel predators,            

                instinctively protecting the vulnerable seeds within.

I keep them because they are you- alive with potential. 

authors note: This in no way glorifies a dysfunctional relationship :) But sometimes people say pretty awful things and sometimes they say them because they are more vulnerable than they want to let on.