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(a forwarded message that needed to..)

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🖤 “When They Judge Before They Ask” — The Poem for Anyone Who’s Tired

1. They think I’m hurt because I chose wrong,  

but the truth is simpler:  

I’m tired of men who feel a spark,  

then run to Google instead of running to me.  

Men who research my name like a case file,  

then panic at their own imagination.  

They never ask, never clarify,  

just fold themselves into silence  

and call it maturity.

2. And no — I’m not grieving them.  

I’m grieving the pattern.  

The pattern of being misunderstood,  

misread, mislabeled by strangers  

who never gave me a chance to speak.  

It’s not heartbreak —  

it’s exhaustion from the same bruise  

being pressed again and again  

by different hands.

3. It doesn’t make dollars or sense  

because the hurt isn’t about love.  

It’s about inconsistency.  

Assumptions.  

Cowardice dressed up as “intuition.”  

Men who want connection  

but refuse communication.  

Men who want the easy version of me  

and crumble when they meet the real one.

4. So yes — if they judge me without asking,  

they were never for me.  

A man who is meant for me  

will ask instead of assume,  

listen instead of disappear,  

and speak instead of hiding behind  

whatever he thinks he found online.  

If he can’t handle a conversation,  

he can’t handle me.  

And that’s not my loss —  

that’s my protection.

5. I prayed for a certain kind of love,  

and instead I met another lesson.  

Not a soulmate —  

a reminder of what I refuse to tolerate.  

A mirror showing me the difference  

between attention and intention,  

between chemistry and character,  

between a moment and a man.  

Sometimes the wrong ones show up  

just to clear the path  

for the one who can actually stay.

6. And I’m done explaining myself  

to people who never asked.  

If a man can’t open his mouth  

before he opens a search bar,  

he’s not ready for a woman like me.  

If he’d rather assume than understand,  

he can watch me walk away  

from the safety of his silence.  

I’m not here to fix their fears  

or correct their fantasies.  

I’m here to be seen —  

and only the brave will look up.

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