blame it on youth

you know how soft
and sensitive skin gets
when you have a ring
pressing against it
long enough
to leave a dent, a shadow, a mark?

when you
chose to pull the binding metal
off to melt into a lock
taking with you the armour
that protected a tiny space

a band
on the fourth finger of the hand
it was left bare to touch
to play and disregard
to teach distrust

and how time past
as I withered in front of
wedding ring stores
how did no stone or rock
fit to cover up
all that was left there

to touch
but all it much desired
was a taste
of you(th)