She said:
“I love you so much.”
But people who love you
don’t vanish
into someone else’s arms.
They don’t drop “I love you”
like a lifeboat
while boarding another ship
behind your back.
“I’m so thankful for you.”
Then why repay loyalty
with lies?
Why give your body
to someone new
before you ever gave closure?
You don’t thank someone
by discarding them
like their pain
was a phase you outgrew.
“I haven’t been myself these past few months.”
Because you were already
someone else’s.
Already slipping
into new conversations,
new comforts,
while telling me
we were still us.
“If I’m not good for me, I’m not good for you.”
Translation:
“I’ve made decisions I can’t face.
So I’ll pretend this is growth,
not guilt.”
You were never unsafe with me —
you were just
accountable.
And that scared you
more than loneliness.
“I need to pick me this time.”
No.
You picked the easy way out.
You picked secrecy,
then blame.
You picked rewriting history
to make it look like
I drove you out —
when really,
you were already gone
the moment you let him in.
βΈ»
Postscript:
This wasn’t bravery.
This wasn’t healing.
This was cowardice
in a self-help mask.
You left a man broken
and called it self-care.
But I know the difference
between healing
and hiding.