it’s black. not pink, not red— nothing loud just there wrapped around his wrist like she belongs there too.
he calls her princess and i laugh like it’s nothing but it claws at me quietly. softly. completely.
i’m tired. tired from staying back every day of the week, dragging my body through hours that feel like they’re crushing me just to keep up, just to hold it all together. but even when i’m doing everything, i’m still not enough to be the ******* his mind.
i see him playing with it— that black rubber band, twisting it like second nature. does she know she’s wrapped around his wrist like a secret he doesn’t want to let go?
it’s nothing, just a rubber band. but it holds more than hair. it holds the place i never got to have.
and i— i hold silence, and late nights, and tired eyes that still look for him when they should be resting.