I lay down the pieces of a love you broke
not for you to mend, only so I can see
how jagged hope looked after it fell.
You didn’t just crack my heart;
you emptied the trust I lent the world,
took my loyalty, my hours, my gentle mercy,
and tossed them like yesterday’s refuse.
Worse than the rupture was the watching:
you watched me bleed and walked away,
as if my pain were a streetlight you could ignore.
There were nights I sobbed until the air left me,
asking some quiet god what crime I’d done.
Then truth arrived like cold glass: I did not deserve this.
You are an expert at demolition,
never at the slower, harder work of building.
I will carry the memory of that hell
not for the sake of grudge, but for my peace.
Forgiving you would be agreeing that you were right;
you were not.
Do not seek me. Do not apologize.
Do not try to open doors you once slammed.
This is the last voice you’ll get from me.
If any of it was counterfeit if your love was a lie
then still: thank you for the lesson,
and for the memories that taught me to choose myself
at the crossroad where I finally turned away.
