Fuck You

Fuck you—

for the silence,

for the half-truths,

for making me feel crazy

for noticing

what was right in front of me.

Fuck you

for acting distant

while still keeping me close enough

to hope.

For every mixed signal

you dressed up like confusion

when really

you just didn’t want

to let go

or fully stay.

And maybe

that’s what hurts most—

not that you lied,

not even that you left—

but that you let me

keep believing

there was something here

worth fighting for

while you were already

halfway gone.

I replay it sometimes—

all the moments

I should’ve walked away,

all the times

my gut knew better

but my heart

kept overruling it.

So yeah—

fuck you.

Not because I still want you.

Not because I need revenge.

But because I deserved honesty,

and you gave me confusion

instead.

And now I’m stuck

untangling the damage

from something

you couldn’t even admit

was breaking.