The lost ring

The lost ring 

I feel like a child, weeping over spilled milk

I love freely, until it hurts

I have no will to keep my insides dry

or my outside in, though I try

I am an open book

Look at me and you may see yourself,

hiding there, on my sill
I care about everything,

too much,
still
I am your lost ring

I am buried on the mountain top

where you look

but come home empty,

of hand

without the band,
the ring,
that you took,
from my clutch,
because I care,
too much

ldn