Gone Girls

Step one

Always leave in the same manner—

all at once,

and without explanation.

Step two

Keep them where you want them.

A worried glance at their phone,

a crease to their forehead,

waiting, wondering, wanting—

for connection,

for closure—

both of which will never come.

Step three

A cryptic post,

a blocked account,

a comment to a friend.

Plant little seeds of pain,

born from thorns made of hate,

and leaves made of anger.

Step four

Always keep the pattern.

Draw in the moth,

knowing you’re the flame.

The moth doesn’t realize—

it’s too caught up in the light,

the warmth,

the beauty of you—

to notice the danger.

Step five

Take it all back.

Call it a new season, a fresh look—

like the first blooms of spring

rising from the wreckage of winter.

Tell yourself you deserve forgiveness.

Say it enough times,

and maybe it sounds true.

But when everything was dying,

when the moth drew nearer,

and the flame burned hotter—

you didn’t pull away.

You didn’t stop.

You stayed your familiar course,

because in that moment—

that fleeting, fragile moment—

you had control.

And that was all you ever wanted.