Amelia James Poetry

He fed me lies,
wrapped in sweet words,
like candy coated poison—
and I devoured them,
starved for love,
starved for anything
that felt like care,
only to realize I was devouring my own destruction.

He swore he loved me—
what a fucking joke.
Lips that spoke of forever
while his hands were already
dipping into someone else’s heart.
And when I caught him,
he spun a new lie,
each one tighter,
more twisted,
until I couldn’t tell where he ended
and the lies began.

He had a talent for tearing me apart—
but made sure I couldn’t see
how he bled me dry.
He played me like an instrument,
a sick symphony of promises,
he never intended to keep.
A joke at my expense,
with him laughing behind my back,
using my love as a fucking pawn
in some sick game of control.

I was never his priority—
he kept me on the back burner,
while he basked in the warmth
of his side attraction.
I didn’t know that I was
fighting for a future with a ghost,
a person who never really existed.
He showed me his soul,
but only the dark parts
he wanted me to see.

He told me I was crazy—
as if it wasn’t him
who drove me to the edge.
He made me question my sanity,
my reality,
my worth—
because when you love someone like him,
you start to wonder if you’ve lost it all.

But no.
I never lost it.
I was just blind—
blinded by his manipulation,
his need to keep me on a string,
waiting for crumbs of affection
like I was some dog he could call,
whenever it suited him.

He pulled me in
and then pushed me away,
all while he whispered lies
about a future that was never coming.
He kissed me,
and I believed it,
but he was kissing someone else,
whispering promises to her
while I choked on my own hope.

And then,
just like that—
he was gone.
No goodbye.
No closure.
No explanation.
He just disappeared—
leaving me to pick up the pieces
of a broken heart
that was never really mine
to begin with.
I wasn’t a partner to him—
I was his fucking doormat.
He used me,
chewed me up,
spat me out—
and then walked away
like he didn’t leave a fucking crater
in my chest.

But the worst part?
He’ll never own up to it.
Never take responsibility.
Never tell anyone the truth—
because the truth would break him.
It would shatter his perfect fucking image,
the one he hides behind
while lying to every girl
he meets.

And I was one of them—
one of the fucking idiots
who trusted him.
Who thought he was different.
Who thought he could love.
But all he loved was control,
manipulation,
and the game he played with me.
A game that had no winner,
because there was no fucking finish line—
just a hell of confusion and pain
he left me to navigate alone.

And I’m still here,
still stuck in his fucking ghost,
still haunted by the words he said,
the promises that meant nothing.
I don’t need his apology.
I don’t need his love.
I just want the truth—
but the truth is,
he’ll never tell me.

So here I am,
still screaming in the silence he left,
still questioning what I did wrong,
still wondering if I’ll ever find peace.
But I know one thing for sure—
he’ll never feel what I felt.
He’ll never know the weight
of the lies he wrapped me in
or the damage he did.
Because he got away with it.
He always will.

-Amelia James