RoBB ToDD

Thanks, Mel

"Off the Verge"

She only sees me in tuxedos now, holding rings that are not for her. I find her wet eyes in weeping rows, and she finds mine, off the verge, each time I hand another man a gold band to slide on some other finger. A man with a book and a collar says what he always says and asks someone else a question he always asks. I mouth the answer, pushing the silence toward her like winter breath, and look away, always too late.