Why do you still treat me like a fool?

Why do you still treat me like a fool?

How many calls went unanswered,

Phone ringing, echoing in an empty room.

A silent stage where you played absent,

Yet your email arrived too soon.

A minute passed, maybe less,

The giveaway sharp as a knife.

You were there, just choosing silence,

Another ghost move in this life.

You clearly did not want to talk.

Thanks for That.

I’ve learned the art of waiting,

Not for answers, but for the truth.

Once taken for a ride, you watch people,

No longer the fool of my youth not naive.

I trusted you.

Yet you treated me like in the old days

A fool that’s sad. Why?

Well, like the old song, no more the fool.

I won’t ever beg for you to chat to me.

No way.

That email—your hasty response—

Was louder than a thousand rings.

A quiet confession in plain sight,

Wrapped in the weight of silent things.

I don’t chase footsteps in the fog,

Nor knock on doors that never open.

If words are a prison, I’m free at last,

No longer begging, no longer hoping.

Lessons carved deep like scars,

Each lie a wound, each truth a burn.

And men like you, with empty hands,

Are just another page a lesson I’ll turn.

I won’t cry out to be heard,

Or grasp at shadows slipping by.

Not a whisper, not a sigh.

Is this goodbye, maybe

So thank you for the silence,

For teaching me what echoes mean.

I stand taller in your absence,

And walk away, strong, serene.

I trusted you.

Yet you treated me like in the old days a fool.

Well, like the old song,

No more the fool.

I won’t ever beg for you to chat to me. No way.