Screams for the Soul

Hearts and Roses

"Ouch!"
I hiss,
My sweater caught
In the unforgiving sharp bits
Of the ring on my finger.
The leaves of the rose cut deep
Into my skin,
Leaving tracks of red
On top of older tracks of faded white.
"Fucking hell."
It happens daily.
Ive been cut so many times
I've lost count.
But I keep it
Because of love.
Because my grandmother
Spent a month's worth of earnings
A whole 30 dollars
Back in 1935
To buy that ring. 
It was her 16th birthday.
And she wore it for 10 years,
When it was replaced by
Her wedding ring.
It became my mother's
On her sixteenth birthday.
She wore it for 12 years,
Left it in a box for twenty-five.
I found it when I was thirteen.
"Mom, look at this!"
Simple gold plaited band
Wrapped around a single,
Long-stemmed, golden rose.
She covered her mouth with a gasp.
"I forgot about that thing..."
She sighed.
It barely fit her pinky.
She handed it to me,
Slipping it on my left ring finger.
"Take it off when you get engaged."
She instructed.
"Never until then."
This simple rose ring
85 years of love
Packed into it.
Despite the pain
I love it all
It holds my heart
In a single rose.