Cute .

Word hit the hall before you did

Someone had finally made their bid

You slid one black folder toward her, neat

She never looked down. “Please. Take a seat.”

Go on, finish, don’t mind me

I love a well-planned mutiny

You picked your moment, made your play

Even rehearsed what I might say

You brought the numbers, stacked them neat

Put my surrender at your feet

There’s one small detail in your math:

You never planned for me to laugh.

Your practiced smile begins to slide

She hasn’t moved, just watched you try

No anger, no defensive lines

Just something sharpening in her eyes

You came prepared to watch her break

She lets the silence hold its weight

Then leans back slowly, just a bit:

“Tell me… is that it?”

You thought you’d cornered every move

Had every number, every proof

You wrote my ending, signed your name

Then walked right in to stake your claim

You bet the house I’d lose my nerve

Mistook my patience for your turn

You came to put me in my place—

Look around.

Cute.

She turns the folder, leaves it closed

“Six months,” she says. “Or nearly so.”

You never told her when or where

That little smile says she was there

She names the calls, the dates, the place

And watches color leave your face

She folds her hands. You feel the snare.

“Who do you think put you there?”

The pieces settle into their place

That little triumph leaves your face

You thought you’d found the hidden door

She left it open months before

Your perfect trap, your grand design

Was moving on somebody else’s time

She lets the silence make it clear:

You were never steering here.

You thought you’d cornered every move

Had every number, every proof

You wrote my ending, signed your name

Then walked right in to stake your claim

You bet the house I’d lose my nerve

Mistook my patience for your turn

You came to put me in my place—

Look around.

Cute.

She finally opens up the file

Reads the first page with half a smile

Then turns it round and slides it back

“Thorough. But you missed a fact.”

You thought this meeting stayed between

The two of you and what you’d seen

She glances toward the darkened wall:

“You weren’t talking just to me at all.”

You rushed to fill the quiet air

And laid your whole intention bare

I never had to plan your fall

I only had to let you talk.

You thought you’d cornered every move

Had every number, every proof

You wrote my ending, signed your name

Then walked right in to stake your claim

You bet the house I’d lose my nerve

Mistook my patience for your turn

You came to put me in my place—

Still think you know my place?

Cute.