Red flags we call fine

I wanted to write a reminder of
reasons I walked away from you,
to put shape to the silence that
my actions always spoke through.

Sometimes when it’s time to explain the why,
I never quite play the part,
my words fall short of the feeling
so I let quiet rest in my heart.

And that silence? It echoes louder
than anything I could say or do,
a punishment in stillness
more honest than disagreeing with you.

We were never meant to happen,
that should’ve been my first sign;
a red flag I held like a secret,
saw it waving, then called it fine.

I ignored it without reason,
a truth I still can’t justify,
’cause sometimes you proved me wrong
but mostly, I was right.

If I trusted my instinct sooner,
trusted the ache in my chest,
I wouldn’t be writing these questions,
trying to make sense of the mess.

If I listened when something felt off,
when loving you didn’t feel right,
I would’ve had space for something real,
not this constant internal fight.

Someone who meets me in the middle,
not leaves me wandering in my mind,
someone who doesn’t betray me
then vanish when I ask why.

Someone who speaks when it matters,
who doesn’t just blur or deflect,
who helps me untangle my questions,
not tie them tighter around my neck.

But instead, I’m here with these pages
I should’ve turned ages ago
confessing on every chapter
my past and present life’s throes.