I am wearing the large silver ring with the design of the Eye of Horus. You purchased it at Piccadilly Square from this man who could be Egyptian - or Pakistani. You weren't sure.
At that time, the ring was too big and my fingers too small. I didn't wear it then. You thought it meant I did not appreciate the ring. Or you. Maybe you were right.
Now we no longer speak. We could barely glance at each other when we do meet. You have also stopped talking to your best friend. And most of your best friend's associates.
But I still like the ring. It's from you, yes - but it's more me than you.
It was not a ring you would have bought on your own. It's not your taste. But I recognise the ring was bought at a time when you still cared for me.
I'm wearing it, for the beauty of the ring itself. Because of you. In spite of you. And it's all mixed up together, the reasons I wear the ring.
After we broke up, I had the ring altered to fit my finger. It is the statement of you and me. Sometimes things had to be broken to fit better.
Still, what's the deal with your hair?!!