What Time Does to What We Keep

The ring was silver once.

Was bright.

Was the kind of thing

you wore because it caught the light

and made you feel like

the light was yours.

Now it's green-black.

The kind of darkness

that spreads.

Patient.

Inevitable.

I opened the jewelry box

looking for something else

and found it there—

the oxidized truth

of everything

I haven't worn.

The pattern underneath

is barely visible.

The design that once meant something

is now just a shadow

of what it was supposed to be.

I could clean it.

Could bring back the shine.

Could make it matter again.

Instead I closed the box.

Let the ring stay dark.

Let the oxidation have its way.

Because sometimes

the thing that destroys

is also the thing

that teaches you

not to keep trying

to keep.