How to Say F You Without Saying the Words

I’m not done.


You fancy yourself vital — like the sun.


Who told you I needed a tan?


Plenty of you in the bakery — you’re just another bun.


Stale and bland.


And right now, off the pan,


I could get myself a fresher one.


Consider it done.

You thought I was expired and spent,


No backup plan, no second wind — but baby,


The safety pin is off. I’m a loaded gun.


You’re as much an attention whore


As the ones you love to shun.

I wasn’t blinded by your sugar-spun.


I saw your finger twitch on the start line —
Always ready to run.


They warned me, and I wasn’t fooled


By your charm or the sum.


I kept pieces of my heart locked in a vault —
Your red flags kept setting off the alarm.

Are you dumb?


Did the math ever add up?


Did you once confirm the sum?


The factory that made your kind


Deserves a permanent ban.

Reality’s marshals are on your trail —


And now you run.

I always kept it a buck with you.


One of the real ones.


And now — you’ve just lost one.

Let’s talk numbers.


You’re not a ten — you’re a one.


Let’s talk about the “gang” you run —


You’re not many — you’re one.


Their love is conditional.


Once your utility is up,


You’re done.

Your love — like theirs — is only


As deep as the numbers you run.

You’re a cat who walked with lions


And thought yourself one.


You tried to lunge —


But forgot you only had one lung.


And it wasn’t even your song you sung.

All this to say:


I always knew you were temporary,


Gone before we’d begun.


And I always knew —
You’d jump ship.


You were never the one.