The Ring Poem by Edward Veilleux

I was the ring around her finger,
bent to a will I couldn't call my own,
for longer then I care to remember,
I was partnered, but felt desperately alone.

I've been diggin through the past,
Diggin a grave for her memory,
How long will the haunting last?
I must let it go, and finally be free.

She won't read this I know,
I can't say I really blame her,
she stopped caring long ago.
Imperfect to the end, we were.

Shaky start, followed by bitter ways,
I don't think we deserved any of it.
Two years of our time, misspent days,
And all I have left is this.

A poem about a girl, who I don't even talk to,
After almost two years of wanting nothing else.
The first girl to whom I meant an 'I love you, '
Now there's no one left to remember it, but myself.