You say love like it’s a charm you can hang on a keychain,
but you treat it like loose change
spent fast, forgotten faster,
dropped in the cracks when something shinier hits the floor.
You trigger storms you never plan to stay through,
light the fuse, then check your watch,
deciding you’ve got “better things to do”
than stand in the fire you helped ignite.
You call it timing.
I call it abandonment dressed up in excuses.
Because when you leave at the moment I need you most,
you don’t just walk out of a room
you walk out of trust,
out of credibility,
out of the version of yourself you pretend to be.
And the people closest to you?
They don’t break all at once.
They erode
grain by grain
until one day you reach for them
and find nothing left but dust
and the echo of your own choices.
You keep pulling out of the work
but expect the relationship to stay full.
You keep withdrawing
from a bank you never deposit into,
and then act surprised
when the account hits zero
and the vault slams shut.
You say one thing,
do another,
and wonder why the bridge collapses
when you’re the one
who kept loosening the bolts.
Consequences aren’t punishments
they’re physics.
You push people away long enough,
they stay gone.
You treat love like a convenience,
it stops showing up.
You prioritize your wants over their needs,
and eventually
there’s no one left
willing to pick up the phone
when you finally need someone.
Because every time you walked out,
you taught them how to live without you.
Dec 22, 2025
Dec 22, 2025 at 11:37 AM UTC
You say love like it’s a charm you can hang on a keychain,
but you treat it like loose change
spent fast, forgotten faster,
dropped in the cracks when something shinier hits the floor.
You trigger storms you never plan to stay through,
light the fuse, then check your watch,
deciding you’ve got “better things to do”
than stand in the fire you helped ignite.
You call it timing.
I call it abandonment dressed up in excuses.
Because when you leave at the moment I need you most,
you don’t just walk out of a room
you walk out of trust,
out of credibility,
out of the version of yourself you pretend to be.
And the people closest to you?
They don’t break all at once.
They erode
grain by grain
until one day you reach for them
and find nothing left but dust
and the echo of your own choices.
You keep pulling out of the work
but expect the relationship to stay full.
You keep withdrawing
from a bank you never deposit into,
and then act surprised
when the account hits zero
and the vault slams shut.
You say one thing,
do another,
and wonder why the bridge collapses
when you’re the one
who kept loosening the bolts.
Consequences aren’t punishments
they’re physics.
You push people away long enough,
they stay gone.
You treat love like a convenience,
it stops showing up.
You prioritize your wants over their needs,
and eventually
there’s no one left
willing to pick up the phone
when you finally need someone.
Because every time you walked out,
you taught them how to live without you.
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