ENGAGEMENT (THIS IS NOT A DRILL)
In all your Pinterest boards,
engagement rings were emerald.
“I wish I was rich enough
that I’d be trendsetting instead of tacky,”
you told me once, as we browsed
a tarnish-guaranteed Claire’s selection.
I’ve always imagined you chucking away
a paintbrush in disdain,
dripping gray paint that couldn’t cover
your colors. Choosing bravado
because you couldn’t have belonging.
Well, I wonder.
When you wear a diamond ring,
will it mean she knows you best?
…
When she worries about your sinkholes,
does she know to be mindful of the crack?
To beware the depth of the fear
you are oh-so-careful to cover?
To tread carefully, lest you descend?
Or does she still need a traffic cone warning?
My technique is the work of years.
My technique is the work of years.
Speaking of, two is too short an engagement.
That’s my stone mountain-top out-of-touch take.
Still, I might have married you
if that’s what it took to make a mine.
My holes, too, must be deeper than they appear.
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intriguing. a complicated love story. deeper than it appears.