You bloomed
from the shadows of loss,
but forgot
I was the light you stood under
when you didn’t know what "growth" meant.

You changed your pfp,
switched the fits,
rewrote the plot like
you ain’t the one who quit.

But here’s the twist:
I was the plot twist you couldn’t handle,
not the sidekick in your little scandal.
You dressed new, posed new, posted new
but I outgrew you
in silence.

Now you say you're healing?
Funny.
'Cause I was bleeding while you were busy ghost-reading
my texts like they weren’t worth a scene.
Now you're serene?
Nah.

You don’t miss me.
You miss the version of you I believed in.
You miss the mirror I held up
when the world saw through you
and I still stayed.

You’re blooming now  cool.
But I was the rain.
I was the one dancing in the storm
while you just stayed dry,
numb to my pain.

You don’t get to cry
about the garden
after killing the gardener.

So yeah, go write your quotes.
Go wear your dress.
But don’t forget
my peace started
the moment your version of love ended.

You had real.
You let it rot.
Now I’m gone
and I swear to God...

You won’t find me
in your next plot.