DIVORCED, DAMAGED AND DANGEROUS

by MissT

He said he’d gone quiet,
Off grid, off-line,
Healing, retreating,
Like some holy man in decline.

But my gut
That old witch,
She never lies.
So I looked.
And there he was,
Leaving love hearts in disguise.

He sat in her kitchen,
Sipping trust from chipped mugs,
Playing the victim,
Craving praise,
Feasting on fresh hugs.

She made him feel welcome
Like I never did.
Maybe she hasn’t yet seen
The tantrums he hid.

He once cornered me softly,
With kisses I never asked for,
Called it love,
But it felt like
Obligation at war.

He said he was loyal.
Said I was cold.
But he forgot I keep receipts
In folders marked bold.

So I wrote on her wall,
With fire in my pen:
“Even Satan walks with angels.”
And I won’t warn her again.

Now the likes have stopped.
No more digital affection.
Because truth has a way
Of cutting through connection.

I’m not the villain,
Not the bitter ex.
I’m the woman who survived him
And still sends texts
To myself, that say:
Don’t go back. You were dying there.
Now you’re choosing sunlight,
Flights,
And air.

So let her have him
that needy facade.
He’s not a partner,
he’s a full-time goddamn job.

But me? I’ve resigned.
No more playing the prism.
I don’t want a holiday
I want an exorcism.