I get it. Totally. You’ve never crossed that boundary.
You’ve never gotten personal. You’re always professional.
Totally get it.
Except when you did. Except when you weren’t.
Except when you friended me on social media.
Except when you shared photos of your pets.
Except when it did get personal. And you talked.
About your family. About your anxiety. About your depression.
Except when it was personal.
Shit. I thought men were the only gaslighters.
I won’t be fooled. I’m perceptive.
I see things. Sense them. It’s why I make things uncomfortable.
You want to take it back. You want to pretend.
You want to be professional. You want it to end.
But you made a mistake. Make no mistake.
I see you. I have already seen you.
Take it away, if you must.
But don’t tell me it was never there.
You’ve lost my trust. It all feels fake.
Now I’m lying here typing in my bed wide awake.
Not totally getting it at all.
