by MissT
This time, I didn’t stay.
Not to see if he’d change.
Not to hope he’d choose me.
Not to rewrite a pattern I already knew too well.
I listened to the part of me
that whispered “not again.”
The part that used to get drowned out
by butterflies and excuses.
I saw the red flags.
I didn’t paint them pink.
I didn’t smooth over the ache in my gut
with a half-hearted “it’s probably nothing.”
It was something.
And I named it.
Out loud.
To him.
To myself.
And that was enough.
No storm. No shouting.
Just the soft click of a door
closing without guilt.
Let him stay where he’s comfortable.
I’m not here to compete with ghosts
or wait in the shadows of old stories.
This time, I didn’t stay.
And it still hurt.
But at least I didn’t lose myself again.


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