Instructions to Unmake Me.

You touched me like you were trying to understand something you had already decided to destroy.

There is a violence in being seen without being held; in being studied without being chosen.

You learned all my softest places—not to protect them...

but to prove you could reach them and I let you.

Because...

I mistook attention for intention...mistook proximity for care...mistook being wanted for being valued—but tenderness is not neutral in the wrong hands.

It becomes strategy.

It becomes leverage.

It becomes a map to everything you should have guarded.

I do not regret loving you.

I regret how easily I handed you the instructions to unmake me.