You knew the ending long before it spoke,
carried it quietly behind your smile,
while I traced forever in the way you said my name,
never knowing it was already past tense.
You built your exit in the dark,
brick by brick with borrowed affection,
whispering sweetness like a lullaby
to keep me asleep while you slipped away.
Your words were honeyed knives
soft enough to taste like love,
sharp enough to carve me open
the moment you found something new.
I was never the choice, only the waiting room,
a place to rest your loneliness
until another door opened brighter,
and you walked through without looking back.
And still, I replay the lies like prayers,
hating how beautiful they sounded,
how easily I believed
I was more than just the space you filled before leaving.