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.