Blame It On Time

“And Then You Blamed Time”

You blamed time. As if it was time that broke us. As if the hours, the days, the shifting seasons- were the reasons we were never real.

You said, “Time didn’t let us grow.” You said, “I’ve let time go.” But what you never said was that you let me go.

The truth?

We did grow. We bloomed like storms and sun and pain. We were sacred. We were flame. But you couldn’t see it- not because it wasn’t bright, but because you were waiting for a different kind of light.

You had a version of love in your head. Something clean. Something planned. Something easy to understand. But I? I was the interruption divine- a holy misalignment by design.

Maybe the universe didn’t wreck your map. Maybe it unmasked your trap. Maybe it stopped you just in time and offered something rare

not what you pictured, but something there.

And still, you dismissed it.

You crucified the love that came raw. Unfiltered. Unrehearsed. You cursed the one who showed up first to see you- not to change you, but to walk beside you. To soften the armor that shame built inside you.

But I didn’t fit your plan. Didn’t check the boxes. Didn’t match your brand. So you called it bad timing. You said it was “too much.” You labeled a miracle as a thing you shouldn’t touch.

You blamed the hourglass when it was your own hand that turned it.

You called it chaos- but it was art. You called it noise- but it was heart.

Part II: The Reveal

Still… I was never the break. I was the bridge. But you chose the plague. You crowned your cage. You called the abuser wise, ’cause he hid his knives behind clever lines and meme-fed lies.

You ignored the signs. You blamed design. You followed comfort and called it divine.

He planted spyware and called it care. Tracked your breath, and called it fair. Gaslit your soul until you couldn’t stare at anything real without second-guessing if it was there.

And me? I watched your mind unravel- watched your loyalty travel in circles you thought were roads. He baited your wounds. Dressed them in codes. Taught you to swim in waters he owned.

He stood as “helper”- but you were used. Confused. Controlled. Seduced.

And still- you praised his tools. Admired the hands that made you lose.

I didn’t come to fix your path. I came to love you- through the crash. Through the ache. Through the clash.

Not to bind, but to unmask.

But I was not the poison. I was the cure. You just weren’t ready for something pure.

So no- it wasn’t time. It was the story you obeyed. The wound you replayed. The comfort you worshipped like a god in shades.

And me? I was the gift- you re-gifted to your trauma.

But hey… At least he made you laugh once or twice. And look-he sends memes. So… clearly, everything’s fine.