You touched me like you saw God.
Like getting close to me might save you.
And I let you.
Not because I was weak,
but because I had nothing to prove.

You read my softness like an invitation.
Treated it like a guarantee.
Took what you wanted and left
like I wouldn’t notice the silence.

I’m sorry the world hardened you
into someone more concerned
with how you’re perceived
than how you make people feel.
And I’m sorry—
that because of that,
you’ve lost me.