Ringed

Prompt from DailyPrompt.com

Just a ring. A thin band of metal I could hide with ease. Or lose. Many times I almost had, when it slipped off its chain and into a crack or a pile of blankets.

I know I should let it go.

This little scrap of gold. Bent and dented and scratched. Centuries had worn it down such that it was unrecognisable, and even a desperate tinker would hesitate to buy it.

And yet…

The memories of my parents’ faces are as worn as my mother’s ring. Their voices are lost to me. I can no longer even remember the songs we sang together.

Why do I keep chasing these phantoms? I know there is no escape from my curse. No hope.

Why can’t I let go of this reminder of all I’ve lost?

This scrap of gold dangles on its chain, resting lightly against my motionless chest. Above the unbeating heart it holds in phantom grip.

Prompt: How could something so small take up so much space in my heart? [This was meant to be a poem, but flash poetry is currently beyond me, so I went with prose rather than spend ages on it.]