The Lost Ring

I turned the drawer inside out again last night,

fingers chasing dust and old receipts.

The small gold band that once circled your finger

is gone, like it slipped out of our story on purpose.

I remember the morning you laughed and said

it felt tighter after the baby.

We were tired, happy, spilling coffee on the counter,

two hearts still learning how to stay.

Now the house is quieter than it should be.

I keep thinking if I find it,

maybe some part of us comes back.

But the empty space on my own hand tells me

what I’ve been afraid to say:

Some things aren’t meant to be held forever.

They’re only meant to remind us

we were lucky enough to wear them once.