With This Ring

When I defrosted you,
snuck in to your hard, white zone
I shrunk to fit within
something constricting,
a different name, a shadow on myself
imprisoned by this ring.
My fingers will never bloom again
as your boxes are all ticked,
I’m red-ink stained.

What of you who wear it too?
I know now you are not gold
You stayed outside our rings
flashing circles of cheaper metals
at strangers when you choose.

You seem alien, external
in this arrangement. Sharp-angled,
the more I’m flat-floored,
I clean, you dirty, you smear, I lie.
My sanctuary now scares me.

Marriage was meant to lift me
to security, not suffocate
my vocal chords squeeze
I scream my longing
for something real, comforting
out of that old marshmallow
pink and white dream.