damn babe: karma really slapped you upside the head.

(honey, you really manifested this shit)

but nah girl—
the vibe is:

can you imagine if i was your ex?

like,
imagine losing me
and living with that knowledge

not just the body
not just the brain
but the entire experience—
the rare combo of
baddie,
mother,
best fuck ever—
genius,
face card that never declines,
and woman who actually gave a shit about you
when she had absolutely zero reason to

nah
even in my worst chaos era
you fumbled
and i was just learning how betrayal lands
so i could come back sharper
less forgiving
and impossible to replace

years ago?
maybe i cried
maybe i begged
maybe i tried to reason with boys who don’t read
gave too many second chances
too much benefit of the doubt
to men with no benefits
and no doubt they’d fold under pressure

but now?

bro
even mid-apocalypse:
my home is immaculate
my kid is glowing
my gpa is climbing—
my dog’s got better judgment than you
i don’t lie.
i don’t cheat.
i don’t scam people out of love, money, or pity.
i don’t need to manipulate—
my personality is strong enough to carry me, babe.

you hope you upgraded?

baby—
your girl looks like a fan
who follows me on instagram
like—
lowkey hater
highkey obsessed
👀 watching my stories
like it’s bad bitch homework she’s failing
in the bushes like
“babe who is she?”
while i'm in your hoodie,
unbothered
and she struggles
to emotionally regulate in target.

(damn homie, embarrassing)

sweetie—
you’re not in love
you’re in hiding

and me?

still that mom
you wish your kid had—
still hotter than ever.
still fuck better,
still smell better,
still feel better,
and it still definitely haunts you.

but you’re just out here
still scrolling—
still
👀 👀 👀

…yikes,
babe.

sweetheart—
remember,
you don’t miss me
you miss the version of you
that felt less mediocre
next to a legend

and now?

now you get to love women
who ask less.
who need less.
who think less.
who mother—less.
who remind you of this version of yourself.
because that’s what boys choose
when they can’t grow up and claim a dime-piece.

how pathetic—

so here’s your compensation prize:
babe—

you get to tell people
you knew me.
once.

but not really.

🖤