Broken Promise (Sealed by two pinkies in the dark)

Not fictional. This happened to me last year and took ages to get over, but also is the reason I write poems now.

The first thing you said to me that night,

after a sloppy kiss, and a "hello" in my ear,

was that a full surgery had just been done,

to give a young boy a new pair of hands. 

I wondered why the news mattered to you,

or why you thought it would matter to me.

Of all the news in the world, of all the ways

to get me to hold your hand.

We compared the size of my thumb

to your pinky.  The same pinky that

slipped its way around my own later that night.

"I'll see you before the week ends," you said.

The week ended, and I stared at my hand.

Another, and I thought about the boy and his surgery,

Now, months have passed, and I am writing this poem,

with my two hands.  My pinkies never touch the keys. 

Author's Note

My professor wasn't a fan of this but other students liked it enough to vote it into my college's literary magazine. There are a few bits I'd love to edit and change but this is the original.

Reviews

[samparks,sam]

so sweet feeling, really want to say something you good writer