When Silence Speaks Louder Than Love

So Friday at work, I’m chillin’ with Kayla, unpacking my latest thoughts about “old friend,” when she hits me with the truth: stop making excuses for men.

And she’s right. I’ve been out here convincing myself..."Oh, he’s tired, he’s working late, he’s busy.” But the truth is simple: if a man wants to call, he will call. Even five seconds to say, “I thought of you.” Effort is a language. And silence? That’s a sentence too.

That’s why my guard is coming down slower this time. Not locked down, but cautious. I’ve seen this movie before and I’m not doing reruns. Two months in, and still...I’m not counting chickens before they hatch.

So then old friend tells me, “You don’t even talk about me on your BP page.” I hit him back with, “You don’t either.” I tell him: it doesn’t take but one sentence. If you’re ready to claim me, then claim me. He shrugs, says, “We know what we are. Isn’t that enough?”

WRONG.

I’m a Gemini,,,I live in duality, in thought and in flesh. I want my love to breathe in public, not suffocate in shadows. I am sentimental, yes. I like to cuddle, yes. And I will not shrink my heart just because he finds comfort in secrecy.

So fine. I removed myself from his circle. No calls, no emails, no reaching. If absence is his choice, then let silence be my answer. And maybe he won’t even notice.

But me? I noticed everything. That this wasn’t love...it was lust, dressed up in disguise. And now I know.

And in this knowing, I arrive at reverence:

That my nature is not flaw, but force. I am both question and answer, the twin flame of shadow and light. My love is not half-hidden. My body is not a bargaining chip. My ambiguity is not confusion—it is power.

So I honor myself.

And I let him go.