Make of this what you will.
I am grown and tired.
The chase, the guess ,inane games.
I will reiterate, please listen.
I’m too grown for this , lost my auction at assumptions gates, the will to stand shifty tides, sort through mixed signals and read between ill, faintly crafted lines. The world is moving and I must scurry along with it.
I have no room for guesses or tic tac toes on where you stand.
‘are you here or there?’,
this is no lovers brawl, no tug of war either. I have given enough self, I must preserve what is left for me. Regrettably, I have left too much space for your frivolities, and wished for too long that you abandon juvenile manners. Time has taught me to careless for drifty ways.
I will not read minds, poetry awaits.
I will not chase, I have given up feline ways.
I will not plead for intentionality or open honesty.
I will not bleed for trust, still, I’ll stay worthy of it.
I will not push for transparency or leap out of comfort zones to comprehend the unsteadiness of your tides.
I will not intently open my souls doors for you, still I shall not close them. I refuse to present you with the chance to betray my efforts. Again.
I will not wait to catch hints and pick up crumbs of real intent. I simply do not have the time. Frankly, I care not for wavering allies.
Come if you will, stay if wish, go if you please.
whatever you please, be intentional.