The word “cherish,” which I had etched in your ring,

always makes me think of cherries,

so I think cherishing

you is round and red and

right.

Right, as in correct,

as in, I wish we didn’t hurt each other

with our words, as we sometimes do, because

it is those small moments

of coldness

or kindness

that pattern the matter.

 

You touch the tips of the fingers of your one hand

to the tips of the fingers of your other hand, as you say,

“We will probably never understand each other,”

(because I like being quiet and alone more than you do),

which really cuts to the stone at the center–

and not in a painless way.

 

The box we have drawn around ourselves,

while imaginary,

still does confine us, and it is delicate.

I want to be in it with you,

and I need to hear that you do too.

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