Hurt From the Spoken Language

Hurt is a Spoken Language It came from your heart, like gas on fire, burning everything in its path. Hurt was your spoken language. Fluent in anger, flippant with pain. Words tossed carelessly, thoughtful or thoughtless. Sweet and bitter, hard and soft. All poured from the same vessel, from the same heart. Intentional or not, your words were nails. driven deep, one word at a time. Hard words, hung heavy in the air. Emotions burst forth, taking the path of least resistance. They make their way to the tongue. Ah, the tongue! Sharper than a sword cutting deep to the bone. Like salt in a wound, words don’t disappear, even if its goal is accomplished. Time may move on, hurt may not. Lingering like ice that’s slow to melt. Daniel 6/2013