There is a vast sea yawning toward the horizon,
Tender waves lapping at her toes,
Each digit sprinkled with grains of gritty sand,
Salt and seaweed twining around her ankles.
Clutched to her breast is a silver ring,
Inlaid with mother of pearl and sapphire,
Stealing the suns magnificence,
A selfish act of false beauty.
Once, that ring meant something to her,
A future tethered to violence,
A war wife tucked away in the rolling hills,
Of loneliness and abandonment,
Constantly mending her unraveling heart,
A spool of yarn forever tangled,
Threads fraying, worn, and forgotten.
She clenches her fist, nails biting palm,
Blood pooling beneath the skin,
As the frigid metal imprints itself,
A memory forever trapped in flesh.
Her white gown is plastered to her thighs,
Made transparent by the salt spray,
A second skin.
Mottled purple and blue blossom beneath the fabric,
The hues mixing and spreading, fading to yellow,
As the pain of her past fades with it.
The sting of memory is persistent, however,
Causing her jaw to clench,
At the damage inflicted upon her battered body,
A sacrifice made in the name of love,
Revealed to merely be a false infatuation.
She understands now what they mean,
When they say only time will grant wisdom,
For the reckless must fall,
Before they can be reborn,
With a stone heart and steel mind.
Uncurling her delicate fingers,
She hurdles the silver band into the sea,
And with it follows a part of her innocence,
The window to her childhood, closing forever,
The resounding echo chilling her spine.
A river of tears stream down her hollow cheeks,
Liquid diamonds infused by the sun,
Made to beam opalescent rays of blue and gold.
Falling to her knees,
She buries her fingers in the sand,
Searching for a comfort that is no longer there.