I Walked Away. But I Never Stopped Looking Back.

You said I was your catalyst.
I said I’m not your savior.
But I still wanted to be your way out.

“I like that even if you are a mess, you don’t need to be saved.

And I like that you are transparent.”

That’s what you said.

You didn’t call me too much.

No man ever has.

Not even you—in all your chaos.

You called me your catalyst.

And I told you I’m not your savior.

You nodded. You said you didn’t want me to be.

But what neither of us said—

was that part of me still wanted to be your exit.

Not your rehab.

Not your redemption story.

Just the person you met at the edge of your old life…

and decided to build a new one with.

I keep writing that men like you can’t stay with women like me.

But that’s not true.

I blocked you.

I ended it.

Not because I didn’t care.

But because caring for you was starting to fracture me.

Because I knew if I stayed, I’d try to carry you out.

And I knew I couldn’t do it alone.

You saw that.

And maybe that’s why you let me go without protest.

Still, I haven’t stopped thinking about you.

Not the version of you numbed by old loyalties and slow poison.

But the one I saw underneath all of it—

sharp, awake, almost ready.

I never wanted to be your savior.

But I did want to be the last time you ever looked back at your past and said,

“I’m done.”

You called me your catalyst.

And I think that’s exactly what I was:

Not the one who stays.

Just the one who lit the spark—

and left the door open.