You don’t love men—
you impersonate them.
Steal his words.
Wear his habits.
Try on his soul like a jacket
until it stops getting you attention.
Then? You rot.
You cheat.
You discard.
Every. Single. Time.
2.5 years is all you’ve got.
Then the timer hits,
and suddenly you’re confused,
you need space,
you’re the victim again.
You lie with a straight face
and legs already open for the exit plan.
And he—whoever the next sucker is—
won’t know he’s just the latest mask holder
until he sees you scroll right past him
in your next identity.
No woman who knows love
leaves like you do.
No woman with depth
cheats like it’s strategy.
You’re not heartbroken.
You’re shapeless.
And you’ll spend your life
echoing whoever’s closest—
until someone finally leaves you first.
-
Author:
Sigmund Gilbert (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: June 1st, 2025 06:57
- Comment from author about the poem: Some people don’t just leave—they schedule their destruction. This poem is about the ones who plant chaos like seeds, then walk away just before the damage blooms—so they never have to watch the fallout. It’s for anyone who’s been left holding the wreckage while the other person pretends they never lit the match. It’s not about bitterness—it’s about clarity. I see it now. And I’m not standing in the ruins anymore.
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 8
- Users favorite of this poem: Cheeky Missy
Offline)
Comments2
A heartfelt poem of vision and a declaration of boundaries to protect while calling out against an abandonment. Well written
A very relatable write to many, people not looking back or even interested in the damage they have caused and left behind, and as the write says, never will until they are in that situation themselves, enjoyed the read
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