I am a temporary trophy,
gold leaf gilded and
shiny, bright, shimmering.

You're 200% proud
because I'm yours.

The small handcuff
trapping, pinching, suffocating,
my left pinky's neighbor
pledges my body to you.

If only you could
chain my brain,
maybe you'd be
content, satisfied, done.

Perhaps that's why
I cry at night and wonder
if I'll ever break free.

Your "love" is
an exceptionally cruel
box to exist inside.