The Crumbling Throne
A letter to the man who chose fantasy over becoming
A kingdom of delusion, built on a sinking floor.
You crowned yourself in charm that doesn’t land anymore.
Held up by brothers who resent you, and women who stopped looking twice.
Meanwhile—
you still think you’re safer in that crumbling throne
than standing bare and rebuilding from nothing.
But fantasy doesn’t pay your debts.
It doesn’t reverse the weight gain.
It doesn’t rewire your addiction.
And it sure as hell doesn’t bring back a woman like me.
I offered you the rarest kind of love:
“I see the mess. I still believe you could be more.”
And instead of rising,
you hid.
You fantasized.
You let the moment rot.
Don’t get it twisted—
I didn’t abandon you.
You abandoned the version of yourself
that could’ve stood beside me.
