Just Jamila.

 I don’t believe you.

 Your love isn’t real,

or forever,

or true,

or even really from you.

 I’ve become immune to you,

your lies,

your excuses,

and all of your apologies.

 I don’t believe you.

 It’s become a cycle—

almost like a game to me.

A ticking time bomb until

you prove me right.

 Once again, I was wrong.

 How is it that I fall for it every time?

Ignore the signs glaring.

Neon lights burning a hole in my vision.

Complemented with personalized regrets,

singing their swan song.

 Explain to me why pain is better than truth.

Why does love only come out of jealousy,

or the need to protect the mouse

even though she scares the elephant.

 Your love has grown stale.

 Explain to me why thorns have roses.

Why do you bleed without ever being cut?

Does it turn you on,

seeing how you’ve damaged everything good?

 Though you’ve lost faith in me,

I’ve never lost love for you.

But you’ve run through me,

just like destruction following a monsoon.

 My hello can’t stand to greet anymore goodbyes.

And my heart no longer breaks for you,

or what we could have been.

Because you fell for the bait,

even after promising that you wouldn’t.

 There’s no more exceptions left for me to give.

No more words left to massage the wounds.

Just one last question for you—

Was losing all this worth it?

 I’m sorry.

 I wish I still could believe you.

 My whole life,

I tried to distance myself from you.

Pretend that everything I wanted from you,

was nothing that I needed.

I pushed away every warm touch.

Shied away from each friendly smile.

Kept distance between the emotions behind every kiss.

Tried to convince myself that it was better this way.

That I was better this way.

That you would become a reality when I was ready for you,

and not the other way around.

 My whole life,

I dreamed of you.

Painted thoughts of who we could be.

Hummed the tune of our shared melody.

I prayed for you to accept me.

For you to see me.

And feel the essence of my being.

I wanted you to want me,

just as much as I wanted you.

Even if that meant you only shared a piece,

a small share of your heart and a quarter of your presence

in exchange for this unique feeling.

The feeling of finally finding some relief.

 My whole life,

I expected you to be there.

Be there when I finally became a woman.

When it felt like it was time,

for me to share this peace with someone else.

Anyone who understood the pain,

and the struggle it took to just be.

Foolish of me to believe in that.

In someone waiting just for me,

maybe even looking out there for me.

Why can’t you hear me?

How will I ever show up when you need me?

My expectations of you

always supersede me.

 My whole life,

I assumed you would find me.

 And maybe, one day you will.