The truth that still rings true

The truth that still rings true:

Sometimes when it’s late at night I pull out the ring you gave to me

That very ring that represented all of our old love, full of hope

Promises that never quite held up, yet still somehow stand tall

This very ring that now rests on my shaky left hand

A reminder of the love that we shared and cared for

I know it was real, at least once, during a time from seemingly not too long ago

I look at my ring in the faint, flickering candlelight of my room

The soft glow of the flame mirroring the dying embers of my heart

Burning down and beginning to fade, but once full of such warmth and light

All the memories come flooding back at once, crashing into me with such force

I picture your lovely smile beaming back brightly at me 

Or your beautiful brown eyes that used to look at me full of love and admiration

I remember the way I held you so tightly, never wanting to let go

I remember all the times you told me how much you loved me

Especially when it was the dead of night and I couldn’t love myself

I think of all of our daily phone calls and late night car rides

The countless adventures and experiences we lived through together

Our messy, long paragraphs we each wrote; that were packed with such fervor

I replay all of the times we fought each other across text and late on call

But mostly, perhaps worst of all

I hold onto the thought, the pure truth, that we always fought for each other

Wanting nothing more than understanding and acceptance rooted in each other’s love

The warm and comforting embrace of each other’s hold

The strong and seemingly everlasting promise of us staying with each other

I sit in my quiet room, filled with loud thoughts, a frenzy in my mind

Desperately trying to tie together all of the memories, to make sense of it all

Trying to piece together the picture of us; our love

Our picture, held in a worn, wooden frame that is cracked with splinters

Shards of glass broken, pressing tightly and unyielding against our skin

The photo is old and creased, for I once clutched it so close to my heart

I try to find the strength to remove this ring off of my unsteady hand

I try to wipe my tears away and force myself to forget and forgive our love

But most of all, I try to find the respect to fold and put away our faded photo