red string

By Rita H. Chen

They said a red string brought us together,
tied to our pinkies,
connected but unobtrusive
Binding just enough
so that we knew it was fate

And destiny seemed to guide us
Through balmy yellows of deepening friendship,
through blushing pinks of budding romance,
till passions ran burgundy,
rich and strong like the string binding us,
culminating in perfect whites of holy matrimony

But white began to seep into the colour
Day by day, a creeping spread
Marriage turned carmine, warm but faded with familiarity,
then tea rose, lukewarm and muted with lingering affection,
before pale pink, cool and neutral with growing apathy

And then the string snapped.

Now we sit, with no colours between us
Save for that red, red string,
still tied to our pinkies,
disconnected but intrusive,
which led us astray for so many years
before finally tripping us to the ground.

Rita’s Musings: East Asians believe that a person is connected to his or her significant other by a red string that is tied to their right pinkies. This poem explores the idea of fate leading people astray.