I love you can be a loud little room with nothing living inside. Some say it to be seen. Some say it to hide. But real love has depth. It has instinct. It does not collapse because one dirty sentence walked in. It is teal—deep enough to drown a lie. It is gold—sacred enough to know its worth. What you called love was hunger wearing perfume. You reached for what was close to me and called it destiny. No, baby. That was not love. God opened my eyes before I mistook the cage for a home. Thank You, God. I am free.
© Slam Poetry by Lucyalia 2024–2026. Poems are copyrighted. Any use requires credit to
@Lucyalia.