You Wouldn’t Know What That Means

I carried the weight
you never saw—
swept the mess
you left behind
without asking
for thanks.

I scrubbed the corners
of every conversation,
dusted truth
from under the lies,
and still you tracked
mud through my quiet.

But I kept going.
Kept showing up
shined and steady,
while you
mistook chaos for charm
and called it freedom.

I stayed soft.
Stayed kind.
Bit my tongue
until it bled grace.

You thought
that meant I was weak.
You thought
you won.

But here’s the thing—
I keep my side of the street clean.
My heart,
my name,
my peace.

And you—
you wouldn’t know what that means.
Not because it’s hard,
but because it requires
accountability.

Because it requires
something you never learned
how to hold.

So go.
Track your dirt elsewhere.

I’ve built a life
that shines without you.