The End Of Almost

He loves me best when it costs him nothing.

Late nights.

Loose promises.

Affection on clearance.

He calls this chemistry.

I call it convenience.

This type of love is a hunger that shows up full and leaves me empty.

He wants my body without the responsibility of my heart.

He dares ask for my softness without offering any stewardship.

He thinks that he gets to experience my magic,

without putting in the effort of learning its language.

Modern men love in fragments.

Half texts.

Half plans.

Half ready, half available,

fully confused when I ask for more.

But I am not a moment you visit when bored.

I am not a woman you circle without landing.

I know my worth.

And, my worth does not negotiate.

I do not wait around for potential to become consistent behavior.

I demand presence.

I demand care.

I demand a love that arrives on purpose.

Anything less, is not worth it.

This is not heartbreak,

this is simply a rejection of lackluster love.