There's a joke you used to tell
but I don't remember it too well
it's on the tip of my tongue
-like so many other things-
the faint laughter in my lungs
and casual twisting of my favorite rings
fade into nothingness
I ain't bluffing this
but one sliver of happiness
still lingers
like fingers
trailing down my shirt
except now, your phantom touch hurts
dislocated from the present
but I don't resent it
And even when I'm not wearing my rings,
I absentmindedly twist the metal that isn't there
like an old joke lingering in the surrounding air
