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ChaosKiddPoems
She learned early how to leave before the leaving could begin— how to spot the tremor in a promise, the hairline crack in “always,” the way forever never quite sits still. So she made a ritual of endings. She’d laugh too loud at tender moments, turn soft words into something sharp, like folding love into corners until it no longer resembled anything worth keeping. If someone stayed too long, she’d rearrange the room— move kindness out of reach, replace warmth with distance, watch confusion bloom where comfort once lived. It wasn’t cruelty, not exactly. More like preservation— like smashing a glass before it could slip from her hands and prove how fragile it was. Because she knew how this went. Love was a season that forgot to warn you before it changed. A door that closed just as you learned the shape of its handle. A voice that softened, then vanished. So she never let it ripen. Picked it green off the branch, said, “See? It was never sweet.” Ignored the way it might have been if she had only waited through the uncertainty of becoming. They called her careless. Said she didn’t understand what she was given. But they never saw her counting exits, measuring silences, bracing for the quiet that always followed. She didn’t ruin love because she didn’t feel it. She ruined it because she did— and she knew exactly how much it would hurt when it left her first.
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Apr 30
Apr 30, 2026 at 5:08 PM UTC
Love Ruined
She learned early how to leave before the leaving could begin— how to spot the tremor in a promise, the hairline crack in “always,” the way forever never quite sits still. So she made a ritual of endings. She’d laugh too loud at tender moments, turn soft words into something sharp, like folding love into corners until it no longer resembled anything worth keeping. If someone stayed too long, she’d rearrange the room— move kindness out of reach, replace warmth with distance, watch confusion bloom where comfort once lived. It wasn’t cruelty, not exactly. More like preservation— like smashing a glass before it could slip from her hands and prove how fragile it was. Because she knew how this went. Love was a season that forgot to warn you before it changed. A door that closed just as you learned the shape of its handle. A voice that softened, then vanished. So she never let it ripen. Picked it green off the branch, said, “See? It was never sweet.” Ignored the way it might have been if she had only waited through the uncertainty of becoming. They called her careless. Said she didn’t understand what she was given. But they never saw her counting exits, measuring silences, bracing for the quiet that always followed. She didn’t ruin love because she didn’t feel it. She ruined it because she did— and she knew exactly how much it would hurt when it left her first.
ChaosKidd
Written by
ChaosKidd
32/F/Pennsylvania
Apr 30
Apr 30, 2026 at 5:08 PM UTC
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