“Band Aid”

“Band Aid”

Missing wedding ring,

haunts a hand.

Pinkish derma,

phantom band.

Washing dishes,

one would think,

the safest option,

feet from the sink.

Perhaps, not truly,

as suds do lube,

a knuckled sausage,

a finger tube.

I took it off,

to keep it safe.

When I went back,

it was misplaced.

Frantic moments,

on hands and knees.

I still don’t have it,

in sets, unease.

Portable token,

a valued thing.

My heart is broken,

my precious ring.

I feel forsaken

without its touch.

Lost in an ocean,

tumbling too much.

Heart’s to hoping,

a shiny reveal?

A misplaced notion,

that’s much too real.


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Roxy Travels

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