Art Project

Saw the post today, on my feed Some moody light and black and white fatigue You looked so “deep”, she looked amused Like no one bled for that excuse You called it timing, you called it space But I was crying while she took my place Is this your curated heartbreak? A version staged to hide the proof A frame that hides the fingerprints of every lie I let you use Is this love, or just aesthetics? Just good lighting on the shame? If it’s real, then own the story— Don’t disguise it as a game Now you’re posting from that showroom wall The one you said you’d see alone, that’s all You needed “air” you needed time But she’s still the one who framed the line And I kept hoping, you’d come clean But cowards paint in gasoline Is this your curated heartbreak? A minimalist affair Where truth gets cropped and tone gets tuned Until it’s safe enough to share Is this love, or just performance? Just a story well rehearsed? You say nothing— That’s the worst She’s not the crime. But you? You’re the cover-up. You turned heartbreak into content and called it “just catching up” So here’s to your curated heartbreak? To every filtered night you stole To the edits in your timeline So here’s to your curated heartbreak? To every filtered night you stole To the edits in your timeline Where I played the quiet role Call it pretty, call it harmless Call it “friends who just connect” But if that’s love— It’s a fucking side effect Some hang paintings Some hang women You just hung me In omission