Passive Treason
November 11, 2025
And I wouldn’t call him mine, but I am certain he’s not yours either — at least not entirely. Because a part of him would always look for me — drifting back toward that one special space only I could fill.
I wouldn’t claim the title, but I am certain that even if I pushed him away, he’d still call at 12:31 AM, asking if he could come over. And I wouldn’t know exactly why — because he would never fully admit it — but he’d hint he just could never let me go completely. And secretly, I’d love that more than I should.
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And I’d forever stand by my rules, but I am certain he’d always find a way to bend them. I am certain when he misses me, he’d always swear you two are done — that I am not crossing any line. And even when I wouldn’t actually believe that, at least I’d have an excuse — a justifiable one.
He’d park in front, knock on my glass window, greet my mom, and pretend he just dropped by to return something. We’d play guitars — performing like good old friends. But when the lights go off — and they would go off, we’d blur all the lines. You are the ex who came back. And oh, what I’d give to be the one who got away — but what he’d do just to keep finding me.
And I wouldn’t go out of my way to see him; in fact, I would block numbers. But I’d leave a few doors open — just enough to let him through. And he’d brave the rainy days just to be with me. And with that persistence, I’d feel less guilty allowing it. After all, “he’s the one who wanted it”.
If I’m going to be hurt, I want to be hurt on my own terms.
And if love is the poison, then at least I get to choose how it tastes.
