the mills never turned up diamonds

but

if you looked close enough

you’ll find a Ruby.

beautiful by all accounts

and priceless.

he’ll try to keep it for himself

but they’ll come.

war drums and pickaxes

to rip treasures, like you, away.

she wasn’t meant for the mills-

he knew that

but he’ll always remember how the red shined in the hands of the sun

the burn marks- he’ll wear them like summer clothing

on the best days.

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