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Things sacredly sworn should last forever.
Wedding rings aren't meant to be removed
but love doesn't always end like a fairytale.
This is a rendering of what was forsaken,
in a painstaking tale that wounded my heart
but all's well that ends well... after a sale.

Vile words spewed from inebriated lips...
daggers drenched with the stench of liquor.
Upon my left hand, I'd worn a wedding band.
For a year after leaving, it encircled my finger until
it behooved me to take it off. 
There's no sense holding on to what is over. 
Marriage isn't always as palatable as waffles 
covered with honeyed clover syrup.

Removing that ring was easier than I thought,
but getting rid of it was something I fought to do.
I almost tossed it out, but put it in a box,
still feeling tethered though I'd weathered 
the storm of sorrow. Courage to do that
came the day divorce papers arrived with a 
"Please sign." I did and never felt more alive.  
I smiled knowing he had to pay court fees.

I looked at the ring later that day, 
knowing what I needed to do with the thing.
The one that once meant everything to me,
but now it was an agitator, an aggravator.
It dawned on me that I should pawn it.
So, to a hole-in-the-wall place called Fast Cash,
I drove without giving thought that my heart
would make me turn around.
NO!  Not this time. I was going to win this round!

It may have been a rash decision,
but I took what I was offered because
divorce papers don't come with a provision
that states, "Rings given must be returned."
'Marriage adjourned' the document stated.
Give back the ring? I'm not addlepated.

I was better off without a wedding band,
no longer on the third finger of my left hand. 
I sold it for less than the measure of its worth,
but felt like I'd given birth to a new me. 
Free from the emotional chain around my neck.
Heck, selling it gave me more pleasure 
than I would have known had I tossed it out.
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