Muhereza Rodgers Roger Poet Lyric

Fasting Me Dry

You fasted me
not with cruelty,
but with absence.

Our conversations became measured portions,
carefully rationed silences,
until even my name
felt too heavy to serve.

Once, words flowed without counting—
laughter spilling past midnight,
questions lingering like warm hands.
Now I sit with echoes,
taught to swallow pauses
instead of replies.

You withdrew with discipline,
as if I were indulgence,
as if closeness required restraint.
No argument, no farewell—
only the sudden practice
of less.

And I was left drying in the quiet,
wondering when affection
became excess,
when presence turned into something
to be limited for safety.

You did not starve me of food,
but of being known.
And that hunger—
that one learns slowly,
alone.

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