When Crumbs Taste Sweet..

“Why would you do that?”

“Do what?” I asked.

“Why would you make me believe there was a possibility of us? Why would you hold me like that, just to let me go as if I never mattered? Why would you let me taste your lips, only to grip my hand and pull away when I tried to hold you? Why does your body scream that you want me, but your words echo fear?”

I looked at him and saw disappointment wrapped in confusion.

Truth? I loved the way you made me feel. I felt valuable. And don’t get it twisted: I know I am an answered prayer to a man who has been called. But the way you made me feel didn’t reach my soul or speak to my spirit. It stroked my ego. And, oh boy, did that feel good.

The way your face lit up when you heard my voice. The way you genuinely appreciated even the crumbs I offered you: crumbs of attention, crumbs of warmth, crumbs of presence.

I felt bad. But humans are selfish. It’s in our nature.

And I wanted to hold onto that feeling a little longer. So I kept you around. Sometimes I called when I needed a reminder of my glow.

I was not the woman you thought I was. Matter of fact, I was more. But I didn’t introduce her to you. Because I knew you weren’t ready for her yet.

I could smell the scent of your desperation through every failed attempt you made to reach me. You were overflowing with potential, and you wore it like an expensive timepiece. But, unfortunately, I’m no longer drawn to that fashion trend.

I used to admire promise.

Now I’m drawn to proof.

I know a part of you genuinely believes that I liked you, and that part isn’t lying. It’s because your mind registered my crumbs as a full meal instead of noticing I only fed you during the fasting season.

You loved the way I made you feel seen. Every conversation with me ended with you wanting more for yourself, and you loved that feeling.

I meant every word, but I was discerning: your desire was loud, and your readiness was not.

Words are my gift. That is how I touch potential.

You loved how I called you a king even though you had no crown, no land, no kingdom, and nothing to build a castle upon.

Admit it: I made you feel good.

I wasn’t pretending during those moments. That is the woman I am.

I don’t understand how we are standing under the same sunlight, yet you chose to see stars in broad daylight.

The crumbs I fed you were the exact oxygen you needed to breathe deeper, to want better. I made you hungry for more, and with me beside you, you felt powerful.

And the taste of power pushed you to overwork yourself, because you wanted to become the man you saw reflected in the vision I painted inside your mind.

So how do you stand here and tell me that I made you believe there was a possibility, only for me to let you go?

I never connected to this version of you. This is not the man in you I spoke to.

I never flirted with your insecurities. I whispered to your potential. I spoke to the higher version of you.

The problem isn’t that you don’t know this, because you do. The truth is, you expect me to cook a feast from seeds that hadn’t even touched soil yet.

I spoke to the king within you, but only fragments of him showed up, and

I cannot sit at an empty table.

That is what I wanted to tell you in that exact moment, but instead

I removed my lips from yours and told you, “I’m not ready.”

When, in truth…

You are not.