Uninvited

Poetry by brit Wolfe author and novelist

Read more poetry by Britt Wolfe

I did not choose you.

You were simply there—
a fact,
a presence,
something already written
into the shape of my life
before I knew
I could question it.

I did not open the door.

There was no door.

Just a closeness
I was expected to accept
as natural.

As permanent.

As mine.

You took up space
as though it belonged to you.

As though I had offered it.

As though I had ever been asked.

And for a long time,
I moved around you
like something inevitable.

Adjusted.

Accommodated.

Rearranged myself
to make your edges
easier to survive.

It is a strange thing
to orbit something
you never chose.

Stranger still
to believe, for a while,
that staying close
was your responsibility.

That distance
was a failure.

That leaving
was a kind of betrayal.

So I stayed.

Longer than I should have.

Long enough
to forget
what it felt like
to exist
without accounting for you.

Long enough
to mistake endurance
for loyalty.

And when I left—

because I did leave—

there was no clean ending.

No closing of a door
I had never opened.

Just space.

Sudden,
disorienting,
quiet.

I thought that would be enough.

I thought distance
would return me to myself.

Undo what had been done
by simply
removing you from the room.

But you don’t leave
just because I did.

Not entirely.

You exist
in the recalculations.

In the way I measure tone
before I speak.

In the instinct to shrink
before I’m asked.

In the quiet scanning
for something that isn’t there anymore
but once was.

That is the part
that feels most unfair.

Not just what was done—

but what remains.

You continue
elsewhere.

Unchanged,
unburdened,
moving through other lives
with the same certainty
that nothing you touch
will follow you.

And I—

I am here
holding the aftermath
of someone
I never invited
into my life
in the first place.

I am learning
that leaving
does not mean
unchanged.

That freedom
and consequence
can exist
in the same breath.

That I can be gone
and still be carrying.

I did not choose you.

I will not choose you now.

But I am still learning
how to live
with what was left behind.

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Poetry by Britt Wolfe:

Britt Wolfe

Britt Wolfe writes emotionally devastating fiction with the precision of a heart surgeon and the recklessness of someone who definitely shouldn’t be trusted with sharp objects. Her stories explore love, loss, and the complicated mess of being human. If you enjoy books that punch you in the feelings and then politely offer you a Band-Aid, you’re in the right place.

https://bio.site/brittwolfeauthor
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Contained Fire