Daily Blog,  Original Poetry

One ring

I feel for my ring and it’s not there.

What once meant so little now means so much.

I press my left thumb against my ring finger and spin the memory of what was. What is no more.

At first I fought the idea. Guys don’t have to wear rings right?

When I was happily fat in the morning it was too tight.

Ironically now that I shouldn’t wear it, it fits just right.

It split on a jagged door handle and broke off in a pool.

I’ll fix it someday.

Silly putty sticks to silicon.

When it was repaired, it was too late.

A grand gesture I called it. Maybe it would work.

She had moved on.

She can’t or won’t come back, oh how I wish she could.

For me, for my baby, and for her.

The impression of where the ring used to be has now faded.

The wanting, the wishing, the loss never will.

It was a silly piece of jewelry I thought.

It turned out to be a symbol of having it all.

 

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