Round and round in circles I go. From this nigga to that nigga and blaming the end on them. Round and round I go chasing love from men that are distant, cold, or emotionally unavailable. Round and round I go confusing sex for affection and lust for love. When will I learn? Round and round I go trying to fix broken men who come to me as a sanctuary. A safe space they say but really just a temporary shelter. Shelter from expectations. Shelter from accountability. Shelter from the women who make them have to be the real men they claim to be. But here I am time and time again and round and round I go ignoring all red flags, proceeding with no caution, heart open, on my sleeve, playing doctor, rehab, and shelter for men that could give a fuck less about me! Round and round I go expecting the most from men that give nothing but false promises, no action, and good dick. Yet round and round I go again and again in love with the idea of being in love and never really having been loved…correctly. His inconsistency plays a tune that only my heart can hear, drowning me every fucking time with every fucking lie! And just when I think my heart will burst from the anguish, he rescues me again, just in time for us to go round and round again. This unhealthy cycle of love me, fuck me, leave me, then come right back to love on me again. Round and round I go eating up the lies he serves me with a side of sex. Thank you Chef! He says I’m the only one he can talk to. That can see him. That loves him. Caught up in the rapture of lust and laughs, I lay beside him feeling safe. Feeling seen. Clinging to the moments, the nights, the laughs because he and I both know know when he walks out that door I’ll drown once again and he’ll be back to rescue me from my own demise. When I question reality he’ll tell me I’m too emotional. I’m too much. I’m making things up. But in reality, I’m on to him and he feels like he losing control so he pulls up and tells me he loves me and will never hurt me. Another sweet lie that still melts me enough to keep the doors to my heart open and waiting for him to drown me again. Round and round I go thinking I’m healing this man when I’m the one who needs healing. I’m the one who needs to be saved. The healer needs to be healed. I can’t go round and round again. I WON’T go round and round again.