ferrule

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02

FERRULE


babe,

remember the ring?

the one that you gave me

before i boarded the plane

and went to the other side of the world.

the single part of you i brought along

isn't enough to fill the loneliness that followed.


i don't wear the ring anymore.

no longer fits my thumb.

it slips,

metallic cool against my skin.

half a year,

locked inside my closet,

inside a case,

like the memories of you inside my head.

you and the ring both stayed in one place.

undisturbed.


i remember your river of dark black hair,

deep brown deer-like eyes,

zits on your cheeks.

shallow features.

i don't remember

your name,

your voice,

your smile,

your lips,

the twinkles in your eyes,

or the mocking giggly laugh,

or the quietness when i was with you.

i forgot them all.

it makes me wonder

what would make us

if i didn't sit beside you on the first day of class?

if i didn't whisper dirty jokes into your ears?

if i didn't give you a ride home?

if i wasn't talkative and you kept your mouth shut?

would we still somehow talk and become friends?

would i still become so fond of somebody

other than my own petty self?


others chirp and chat with their friends,

and i stand,

awkward in a cramped space,

bodies surrounding me,

strangers whom i fancy as friends.

say "goodbye"

and get no reply.

i can't admit that i'd cry

for those ridiculous reasons.

but,

i did. i do.

nobody gets me like you.

i'm a social butterfly,

talk to everybody,

hang out with everybody.

everybody.

Kairosclerosis ✔ [poetry]Where stories live. Discover now