Ain't It Kinda Funny

 Ain't it kinda funny

how you always told me

when it ended,

I'd be the first one you'd run to?

Like somehow,

after all the noise went quiet,

after all the fighting stopped,

after there was finally nothing

standing between us,

you'd find your way back to me.

I believed you.

Maybe that was my mistake.

Because it ended—

and instead of running toward me,

you pushed me farther away.

Ain't it kinda funny

how the moment finally came

that you swore would change everything,

and somehow

nothing changed at all?

Except us.

Except suddenly

I was the one you needed space from.

I was the one left wondering

what the hell happened

to all those promises

you made when losing me

was only hypothetical.

But maybe the saddest part

isn't that you didn't run to me.

It's that you still can't see

what you chose instead.

You kept talking to the person

who couldn't give you what you needed,

the person you told me

left you lonely,

frustrated,

wanting more.

And you threw away

the person who stayed.

Eight years.

Eight years of standing beside you

in whatever way you'd allow me to.

Eight years of listening,

forgiving,

waiting,

understanding.

Eight years of being there

when you needed somewhere soft to land.

Even after you tossed me aside.

Even after you chose someone else.

Even after you made me feel

like something disposable

you could throw away

and pick back up

whenever you missed the way

I loved you.

And still,

I stayed.

Not because I didn't know better.

Because I loved you.

Because somehow,

no matter how many times

you made me feel like trash,

I never learned

how to treat you like you were.

That's the difference between us.

You kept telling me

that when everything finally fell apart,

you'd come running to me.

But when it did,

you ran in the opposite direction.

Back toward what wasn't working.

Away from the person

who had already proven

she would stand beside you

through almost anything.

And ain't that the saddest kind of funny?

You spent all that time

telling me I was the one

you couldn't completely let go of—

only to finally have the chance

to stop letting me go,

and choose to do it anyway.