The Last Excuse

I kept a whole drawer of excuses for you,

folded neat like socks:

He’s stressed,

He didn’t mean it,

He had a hard childhood,

He’s just “bad at feelings.”

﹁﹂,

I’d pull one out whenever you hurt me,

hold it up like a shield,

and still somehow

I’d be the one bleeding.

﹁﹂

My friends would look at me

with that careful face,

the one that says

We love you, but we’re tired

of watching you disappear.

﹁﹂

And I’d argue for you.

Like you were a thesis.

Like pain was a misunderstanding

If I explained it well enough.

﹁﹂

But harm doesn’t turn gentle

just because you rename it.

A bruise is a bruise

even if you call it “growth.”

﹁﹂

The last excuse broke on a Tuesday,

small and stupid

You mocked my voice in front of people

and laughed like it was cute.

﹁﹂

Something in me went quiet.

Not numb.

Clear.

﹁﹂

I didn’t defend you.

I didn’t search the drawer.

I just saw it.

Love isn’t supposed to shrink you

for sport.

﹁﹂

So I left the excuses there,

unworn,

and walked out with my full name

back in my mouth.