Poets is powered by Vocal creators. You support Natalie Marie Stefani-Rice by reading, sharing and tipping stories... more

Poets is powered by Vocal.
Vocal is a platform that provides storytelling tools and engaged communities for writers, musicians, filmmakers, podcasters, and other creators to get discovered and fund their creativity.

How does Vocal work?
Creators share their stories on Vocal’s communities. In return, creators earn money when they are tipped and when their stories are read.

How do I join Vocal?
Vocal welcomes creators of all shapes and sizes. Join for free and start creating.

To learn more about Vocal, visit our resources.

Show less

The Ring

You cut it off, actually. I smelled the smoke long after hearing the sizzle, feeling the cold steel.

You came to me tonight to show me what you had found.

And I think so often I have looked for it.

I remember when you took it off.

You cut it off actually.

You cut it off during an argument about something so fucking stupid I can't even remember what it was about.

But I still looked for it on your hand.

And in vain, I looked and looked but it was gone.

You put it in a small box on the shelf.

And time to time I would look at it when you weren't around.

I'd wait until you left then sneak up on the box.

I'd slowly open it and it was always there.

But it wasn't where it was supposed to be.


We shopped for a while for that ring.

It replaced the one you wore at the service.

We could not afford one then.

But when we could we did.

I took mine off in spite.

It just didn't seem fair, it just didn't seem right.

You had a twinkle in your eye tonight when you showed me.

That's great, I thought.

"That's great," I said out loud.

You seem happy you found it, maybe even kinda proud.

To me that ring symbolized so much.

It represented a love no one possibly could touch.


So much has shifted since that special day.

For the first few months I could see how cutting it off set you free.

Freedom from the cliche of  'rings'; freedom from a life with no end.

A life that goes around and around; eternity.

A life spent living with me.

I guess.

I guess you hauled it around like a weight strapped to your back.

So it seemed.

I've heard some people refer to their significant other as their anchor.

So I've heard.


I felt the blade.

The sharp cut.

It burned.

It set my heart on fire.

But in a different way than on that special day.

I smelled the smoke long after hearing the sizzle, feeling the cold steel.

I think about how long you wore that ring.

How long you toted it around.

It didn't seem heavy to me.

But I guess by it being gone somehow you lightened up your load.

I guess.

"That's great that you found it," I said out loud.

At one point it meant the world to me.

It showed me how much I meant to you just by you wearing it.

And then you cut it off.

Then mine came off.

And it caused a wave.

A tital wave of sorts.


And so much has shifted in our Iife since then.

So much has changed from when you first placed a ring on my finger, and I placed that ring on yours.

I guess it's easier to blame it on something other than what it is.

I guess.

"That's great that you found it."

I look up to find you smiling.

"Kiss me," you tell me gently.

And I do.

I guess I thought it was gone for good.

I thought you had lost it forever, that we would never find it again.

"It's really great that you found it." Quietly I whisper long after you're gone.

Now Reading
The Ring
Read Next
I Look Around Me