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Nov 19
fiction 2 comments
infinitelyinfinite3

Pieces

The best, and possibly, the first thing — or, at least, the first thing I remember, anyway— that my mother ever told me, her arms wrapped around my small body, black hair glinting in the firelight, was, "Your heart is not a conduit. Not a vessel for others to bend and break and walk through at their leisure." 

I, being only three years old, didn't understand, and just nodded, eager to please. 

Mom's blue eyes went liquid, soft, long, blunt fingers carding through my hair, wisping through the warm strands. 

"Who you choose to love is your choice, my darling." 

Her lips pressed to the top of my head. 

"Keep control of your own heart, my lovely, and when you find someone willing and deserving, you give them a shard, a small piece, of your ever expanding love, but never all of it. That way madness lies." 

Now, here, alone, I think, I'm sorry momma. I still can't replace your piece. 

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Posted: 11.19.20
About the Author: infinitelyinfinite3
Brown person, LGBTQIA+ member, overthinker, and book and music lover. I am not afraid of the Oxford comma. You shouldn't be, either.
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Discussion

Comments

  1. Stargirl
    Nov 22, 2020

    This is so sad, but so beautiful:)

    Love, Stargirl

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  1. infinitelyinfinite3
    Nov 22, 2020

    Thank you so much.

    Brown person, LGBTQIA+ member, overthinker, and book and music lover.
    I am not afraid of the Oxford comma. You shouldn't be, either.

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