Drew

I bent down and pulled out the ring. We were lighting your heirloom candlesticks, aping old prayers. You said yes as my knee touched the ground. The rest of our life was rote illusion. I’m sorry I lusted for dusty rooms and trembling wombs, and sought emptiness so I could busy myself with filling. But the shiny metal cried off your finger into a point as I walked away, and the grenade I cradled was bound to explode.