You think I smiled when I saw him unravel? Truth? I mistook your crown for his to hand me. But I never asked for the robe sewn in someone else's sorrow.

He told me stories—halves and edits, painted you as a cold house with burnt meals and bitter sighs. I believed him. Believed the man who couldn’t even tell the truth to the mirror.

The perfume he wore—mine? No. It was diluted with guilt. And when he came to me, he brought silence where affection should’ve been.

Did I win him? If you call walking beside a man whose heart homes regret and lies—victory— then perhaps I did. But it never felt like triumph. Just borrowed time on borrowed lips.

You washed his sins. I watched him repeat them. Polished shoes and ironed guilt, you made a home— I offered only escape.

I saw your name tangled in his hesitation. I noticed how he didn’t flinch when my fingers searched him, but he shivered whenever your name slipped into the silence.

Perhaps I was never gatekeeping— just unknowingly guarding a man who belonged to a story far nobler than mine.

I didn’t steal your husband.  
He wandered. I opened the door.  
If your vows couldn’t anchor him,  
what makes you think I held the rope?

Don’t look at me like I shattered glass.  
He came to me with shards in his pockets,  
already bleeding, already broken—  
already yours, and yet halfway gone.

He called me “escape.”  
Whispered your name only when guilt cracked through the sheets.  
I didn’t ask for your silence.  
He offered it like dessert.  
A side dish to his tired love and recycled affection.

I am not your enemy.  
I am your mirror.  
Reflecting what he never confessed.  
While you folded his clothes,  
I was untucking his truths.

He smelled of home-cooked compromise.  
Tasted of half-truths and conditional loyalty.  
And you? You let him come back every night  
like loyalty was just habit.

Don't preach to me about morality.  
He wore your love like a coat—  
only when it was cold enough  
to make him miss your warmth.

He told me your love was routine.  
I gave him chaos.  
And he begged for it—  
not once, not twice—  
but every time you forgave him.

I never promised forever.  
You did.  
And yet here he was—  
asking for more of what he shouldn’t crave.

So ask yourself,  
was I the sin or the symptom?  
Because from where I stood,  
the cracks were already showing—  
I just danced on them.

if my sword can only talk, it slashes the hell out of you,
if my gun can only walk, you'd be dead by now.
if looks can ****, you are in your deathbed by now,
oh, how I love to romanticize the feeling of thinking about you. in the back of my mind, I already stabbed you in the back or i already established my plan of killing you.
fatality owns you, brutality is in my soul, it owns me too.

palpitations. hyperventilation.
heart beats faster than a horse
should I be worried? yes.

The scent of her perfume smells like she owns you now
That even wolves beg to differ the scent of each goes by sniffing and whiffing
The lipstick stain in either your collar or tie serves like a masterpiece I noticed but went on with my life

The hickey marks on your neck suits you— she already made a mark of her own territory.
As if not stolen from another woman.
Did you even work hard for that?
Someone else put in the effort, and it was so easy for you to take it.
You used your flirtation—not your brain—to get it.
Hence, you were no longer mine to keep.

How does it feel now?— was it a kick in a chest? Or was it like your heart got a hole and it was sawed in halves.

I trembled in fear and became anxious of what our married life could be
Somehow, I feel like she was already gatekeeping you
A single strand of her hair made me left questioning my worth
At that moment, I knew you ****** up
You got caught but you have the audacity to deny it

Does your mistress even know how your wife always waits for you to come home
Polish your shoe, iron your clothes, wash them and make it neat and fragrant
Sweep and mops the floor, just to make sure you come home to a tidy household
Only to find out, her scent is all over you
Lingering you, feels like holding you

Despite your infidelity, I still smiled and wiped my tears as if nothing was going on
Sighs, take a deep breath, tomorrow again is another day
That even any alcoholic beverages no longer comforts me

What type of answer would you expect me to give you?— The kind of answer you would like to hear or not.

Why would I give you my name when you are not even interested to know— It was like telling a story you are not ready to hear or an alibi you do not wanna listen to.