What is left of a first love once that love has ended?

This necklace only seems to be getting

tighter, like a collar, or your

gripping hands

seizing upon me.

This silver, however precious

is not strong or valuable enough to keep a hold on me,

yet Cold enough to send shivers down my spine.

A cold, frail link is the only one that connects us

Now you have sent

gold to another.

And I am left shivering, 


at that cold, weak silver.

The End

2 comments about this poem Feed