Void

You didn’t wear that ring again--
Feeling just after your knuckle-- nothing there.
It slices through me, was that your aim?

Your pointing finger, bare and plain,
It seems as if you just don’t care,
Because you didn’t wear that ring again

I ask you outright, thought you’d at least feign
Ignorance, but you just looked at me with that blank stare.
It sliced through me, was that your aim?

I sit alone, make myself refrain
From following you-- who are so aware
That you didn’t wear that ring again.

Wondering just what was to gain
By ignoring me through what you wear.
Since it sliced me through, was that your aim?

The bed is empty, and I’m chained
To the old chair that we once shared.
You didn’t wear that ring again.
It sliced me through. That was your aim.


Sarah Brent