I Am The Shift

I don’t raise my voice.

I don’t swing first.

I let silence carve the truth

Into the bones of the room.

You thought love

was a leash to break.

You thought I’d beg

at the gates you ran through.

But I’ve never needed the door

you slammed behind you —

I am the house.

I am the storm.

She traded up in comfort,

down in soul.

Wrapped herself in shallow grins

and the echo of your ego.

But I was the spine —

the one who held it all

when it trembled.

You think you’ve won.

But I am not the one

you discard without consequence.

I don’t haunt —

I hover in the conscience,

show up in her silence,

in the space you’ll never reach

no matter how many mirrors

you flex in.

This isn’t revenge.

This is remembrance —

of what real looks like

when it walks away,

still whole,

still crowned,

still unbothered.

I don’t fight for thrones.

I am the kingdom.

And you —

you just rented the illusion

for a night too long.