This Is Not A Game
Read more poetry by Britt Wolfe
This is not a game.
Not provocation.
Not banter.
Not a ritual of testing
how many times a boundary can be crossed
before it stops meaning anything.
A no was spoken.
Clearly.
Without subtext.
Without invitation.
It was not strategy.
It was not ambiguity.
It was an ending.
Persistence is not affection.
Repetition is not confusion.
Unwanted presence registers in the body
as threat long before it finds language.
Refusal is not flirtation.
Distance is not negotiation.
That misunderstanding belongs elsewhere.
No explanation is owed.
No reassurance required.
No further translation necessary
for words already understood
and deliberately ignored.
Autonomy does not need consensus.
Consent does not require debate.
Access is withdrawn.
Proximity is declined.
Engagement ends here.
This is not temporary.
Not conditional.
Not a pause.
It is the quiet act
of choosing self-possession
with precision and resolve.
What continues beyond this point
is no longer mine to interpret,
manage, or correct.
This is the last time
silence will be rendered into language
for those committed
to misunderstanding it.
Keep My Words Alive
If this poem has stayed with you, you can help keep my words alive or explore more of my work. Every bit of support helps carry the stories forward.
WHERE WORDS MEET MORNING LIGHT
BEGIN EACH DAY WITH SOMETHING BEAUTIFUL
Every morning at 11:11AM, I send a poem — sometimes soft, sometimes devastating, always true.
💚 Subscribe now to read and breathe and feel along with me 💚
Poetry Anthologies by Britt Wolfe:
