Last night I found the ring
you gave me last April
when you learned about my collection;
the growing obsession. . .

It feels like the kind
you find at flea markets
by mistake,
but you buy it
because no matter what else
you look at
it haunts you, the unknown story
is captivating.

I don't think it was
originally yours
and you're not someone
I can see at a flea market.

But of all the rings
in my collection,
the one from you
is my favorite.

So someday
when my collection goes off
to someone else
the piece from you
will go to a child
in my family,

maybe a niece
or a nephew,

and I will whisper,
"This belonged to someone
someone I love once knew,
I kept it safe for so long,
I saved it for you."

With a deep breath
I will add,

"I don't know
where all the scars
came from,
or if you will like it,
but I hope you
at least understand."