I am an object so small,
You probably wouldn’t notice me.
I may be simple to you--
but you’re not her.

You’d call her crazy
that she found happiness
in an object and not you.
A feeling that you never gave her,
that she never knew.

So instead, she sits.
Running her fingers
over my small, metal surface.
holding on a little longer,
scared that I’ll go away--
Just like he did.

My flat surface fits perfectly
between her thumb and pointer finger.
The tiny holes make it seem
a little more real.
But no matter what


it’s all still a dream to her.

My unclasped chain, are like his hands,
that pulled away for good.
The connection used to be so strong,

But now I’m broken and unwearable

I do not hang from her neck.

But she still keeps me.