You said love was the reason you stayed,
but baby, your silence said more than your praise.
You called it “confusion,” I called it a phase —
but truth doesn’t hide behind emotional haze.
Love was your excuse,
a cloak you wore to look sincere,
but every time I reached for you,
you disappeared — year after year.
You talked about forever with a half-smile lie,
while I built homes in your maybe,
and drowned in your why.
I begged the universe for signs,
and all it gave was distance —
proof that peace doesn’t coexist with resistance.
See, leaving wasn’t cruel —
it was the only honest thing you did.
You showed me who you were
when you finally slid
out the door you’d cracked months ago.
Your love was just the preview,
your exit was the show.
And I won’t romanticize the wreckage anymore.
You were the lesson, not the lore.
Closure? Please — I wrote it myself.
Healing doesn’t need your help.
So go ahead and call it fate —
but I call it growth.
Because I found myself
in the ruins of us both.
Love was your excuse,
but leaving was your truth.
And now that I’m gone too,
I see —
I was the proof.
