How many times are you going to come back

like I’m a place you own?

⸻

My love was never something you could borrow

and return whenever life got quiet for you.

I let you walk over me too many times,

but I’m done pretending I never noticed.

⸻

You only reached out when you were lonely,

when you needed reassurance,

when the people you chose over me

stopped choosing you back.

And there I was, standing around,

carrying your weight

every single time.

⸻

I’m not your safety net,

or the “safe space” you claimed I was

after you were done with everyone else.

I got tired of being your convenience

disguised as connection.

⸻

You tell people you care for them,

but caring doesn’t only show up

when it benefits you.

Love shouldn’t feel like a favor

we’re supposed to be grateful for.

⸻

It feels good knowing

you won’t take from me again.

But it’s sad realizing

I was just another cog in your machine,

something you needed to feel whole.

I see now I wasn’t the first,

and you’ve shown me I won’t be the last.

⸻

So more power to you.

That’s what it’s always been about, right?

Your need to feel strong

just made everyone around you disposable.

⸻

You only ever returned

when you needed warmth—

but now you can stay cold

while you look for what’s next.

⸻

You probably think the grass

will be greener somewhere else.

Just remember: it’s only greener

where you choose to water it.

And how do you expect to grow anything

when you keep waiting for others

to do the work for you?