It’s funny how I expected honesty later
from someone who lied so easily before.
I trusted promises made after endings,
like truth suddenly mattered once I stopped staying.
You kept your story louder than the facts,
painted me wrong so you could sleep better.
I stayed quiet, thinking silence was dignity
didn’t realise it would be rewritten as guilt.
Now I watch you protect your image,
using my name as the cover.
Funny how the one who broke everything
acts shocked when I stopped explaining myself.






