Daniel tasted devotion like wine samples—then swirled me,
sipped me, spat me out the moment I stopped feeling exotic
on his tongue.

Malik wanted a man made of mirrors—then left when mine
began reflecting him too accurately, leaving shards of
my patience scattered across his doorstep.

Adrian took my words like firewood, burned them for warmth,
then walked out into the cold, watching me shiver in the smoke,
and I counted the sparks he left behind.

Kibet loved the way I held his world together until he realized
mine needed holding too—then vanished quietly, leaving only
echoes where once our laughter had lived.

Ricardo wore my body like a borrowed shirt—stretched it, left it
with the smell of someone else, and returned it without care.

Stefan said emotions were his allergy. I sneezed once—he ran for
the hills, and I learned that some hearts are just seasonal.

Justus turned affection into currency. When I went broke,
he over-drafted my heart and left me counting debts that love should
never incur.

Kelvin told me I was “too much tenderness for one lifetime,” then chose
a life without tenderness, teaching me that abundance can be a crime.

Tariq loved the warmth of my arms but flinched from the gravity of
my touch—slipped away whenever intimacy demanded risk, as if
feeling me fully was a crime he wasn’t ready to commit.

Bradley said his parents wouldn’t understand—as if my heart were
a thesis needing their approval, and not a home, warm enough to
survive their absence.

Nico loved the poetry in my mouth—until he realized poems don’t
cook dinner, don’t beg, and I learned that art is often more feared
than ignored.

Yusuf said he’d stay forever, then handed forever to another man
like spare change, and I realized permanence is sometimes just an
illusion.

Damian accused me of loving too fiercely, which is funny because
he never survived a gentle touch—and I understood then that my fire
was never the problem, but his own shadow in the dark.

Patrick called me home—then moved out overnight, leaving the lights
on to make it look like someone stayed. And in that hollow glow, I saw
every one of them etched into me, teaching me how to leave myself intact
even when the world refuses.

 

 

 

 

 

Photo by Emiliano Cicero on Unsplash