Uneven Streets Poem by cassidy Lovato

We met in the scroll of faces,
a spark in the noise,
three kids, three kids,
shared chaos, shared laughter.

I opened my home, my calendar, my time.
I tried, more than once, more than twice,
to make space for moments,
for gifts, for milestones, for you.

I noticed the calendar shift,
the excuses stacking like snow,
the gifts that never exchanged,
the holidays spent elsewhere,
and me, waiting, hoping,
for a hand to reach back.

You tell me stories now
with a new timeline,
three days, last minute,
and I see it for what it is:
your narrative, not the truth we lived.

You emailed,
not to rebuild, not to reach me,
but to close your own chapter,
to tidy the edges for yourself,
and leave me standing
in the middle of what I gave.

I am tired of the one-way streets,
the social media smiles,
the warm body without warmth in return.
I am tired of carrying
what should have been shared.

And yet, I honor what we had,
the laughter, the chaos,
the ways we showed up,
even if uneven.

I release it,
the weight, the waiting,
the unmet plans,
the shifting timelines.

I release you,
and in releasing,
I reclaim the parts of me
I gave freely
without reciprocation.

I will remember the good
without longing for what never was.
I will move forward
with arms open
and hands full
of my own life, my own joy,
and the friendships that breathe both ways.