Same Ring

So here she was again. Same ring hand. Same stern face. Same pain in her chest. She stared at the phone, her fingers paused momentarily over each number, as if they meant something. It didn’t mean anything though. He wouldn’t call. He never called. She always waited, twisting the ring on her left hand around and around, until she was sure it spun of it’s own accord. Just like them. They hadn’t made a commitment, they had just promised a lie. Well he had. Had she as well? She frowned at the question, but confirmed the answer too. She pressed the green phone button and listened for a tone. It was there, dull and long and mocking her with it’s consistent whine. He wouldn’t call. She put the phone by her side and tried not to look at it. She lay back on the bed and placed her now loose ring on the table. He wouldn’t call.

Written to “Romeo and Juliet” – Lisa Mitchell Version.

Published by

Maame Blue

Writer| Poet| Blogger| Ghanaian by heart, Londoner by nature

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