“I am Done”
By Elle Lombardo
I am done
watering a garden
that only grows excuses.
Done translating my softness
into a language
you never tried to learn.
I bent myself smaller
so you could feel taller.
I clapped for potential
that never showed up.
You called it “confusion.”
You called it “timing.”
You called it “stress.”
I call it what it was—
cowardice wearing confidence like cologne.
I gave you patience
like it was infinite.
Gave you chances
like they were party favors.
Gave you effort
like it didn’t cost me sleep,
sanity,
Self-respect.
But I am not a rehab center
for emotionally illiterate men.
I am not a tutor
for basic decency.
I am not extra credit
for a life you refuse to study.
You mistook my love
for availability.
My understanding
for weakness.
My silence
for stupidity.
I am done drafting paragraphs
to explain what you should feel.
Done shrinking my standards
to fit your comfort.
Done auditioning
for a role I already earned.
You can keep your half-texts,
your half-truths,
your half-efforts.
I am a whole woman.
And I will never again
pour oceans
into someone
who only offers
a teaspoon back.
