I thought your heart was a mirror of my own,
reflecting a truth I was proud to own,
but you were just tracing a jagged line
of a story you'd built on a hollow throne.
You looked into my eyes and you spat that word,
a label to shaming, to keep me small,
while you spun the saddest tales I'd ever heard-
fake scars you used as a shield and a wall.
You lied about the weight you had to carry,
using your "truama" to make a fake connection,
making the air between us heavy and scary,
while you were the one pulling every string.
And when you came back, all quiet and low,
begging for mercy for the fire you'd lit,
I let my own boundaries crumble like snow;
I gave you a grace that you didn't fit.
I forgave you before you had even atoned,
swallowing insults like they were my due,
leacing my own self-respect unthroned
just to make room for a version of "you"
But the betrayal eventually sharpened my sight,
and I saw the coward behind the cruel name.
I realized that staying and losing the fight
wasn't my burden or part of your game.
The strength didn't come from the silence I kept,
but from finally hearing the lies for what they were.
I'm cleaning the space where the bitterness slept,
finding a version of "me" that is steady and pure.
As Mark Twain once said, "forgiveness is the fragrance the violet sheds on the heel that has crushed it"
Mar 18
Mar 18, 2026 at 8:50 PM UTC
I thought your heart was a mirror of my own,
reflecting a truth I was proud to own,
but you were just tracing a jagged line
of a story you'd built on a hollow throne.
You looked into my eyes and you spat that word,
a label to shaming, to keep me small,
while you spun the saddest tales I'd ever heard-
fake scars you used as a shield and a wall.
You lied about the weight you had to carry,
using your "truama" to make a fake connection,
making the air between us heavy and scary,
while you were the one pulling every string.
And when you came back, all quiet and low,
begging for mercy for the fire you'd lit,
I let my own boundaries crumble like snow;
I gave you a grace that you didn't fit.
I forgave you before you had even atoned,
swallowing insults like they were my due,
leacing my own self-respect unthroned
just to make room for a version of "you"
But the betrayal eventually sharpened my sight,
and I saw the coward behind the cruel name.
I realized that staying and losing the fight
wasn't my burden or part of your game.
The strength didn't come from the silence I kept,
but from finally hearing the lies for what they were.
I'm cleaning the space where the bitterness slept,
finding a version of "me" that is steady and pure.
As Mark Twain once said, "forgiveness is the fragrance the violet sheds on the heel that has crushed it"
This is about a past relationship. Do not let them lie and control you, it hurts you more in the long run then it would if you would speak up.
