I still twist the air
where the ring used to sit —
black silicone,
nothing flashy,
but it meant everything.
I wore it like skin.
Not to show off,
but to hold on.
To remind myself
I belonged somewhere.
It never shimmered,
never sparkled —
but it stayed.
Through sweat,
through storms,
through Sunday football
and late-night walks with the dog
when we were too tired to talk
but still too in love not to.
Now my thumb still searches for it.
Like my body hasn’t caught up
to what my heart already knows —
that it’s gone.
That we are.
And yet,
some mornings,
I swear I feel it again.
Like the memory itself
is gripping back.
And I miss it.
The weightless weight
of something that meant forever —
even if it was just silicone.
Even if it cracked under pressure.
Even if I did, too.
-
Author:
Samuel (
Offline) - Published: August 8th, 2025 01:17
- Category: Love
- Views: 5
- Users favorite of this poem: sorenbarrett, Poetic Licence
Offline)
Comments3
good write
The rawness of this poem is its strength it doesn't cry it sobs quietly with the loss of a piece of oneself. It is not melancholic but tragic. Well written and a fave
A raw and honest write, the touching memory of the loss of something that meant and signified so much, you can feel the sadness but also the love that remains, lovely write
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