Amelia James Poetry

Thirteen years,
and it still feels like I’m waking up in the middle of a storm
that hasn’t stopped raging.
You stole so much more than a love I believed in,
you stole a piece of me,
a part that now only exists
in memories I can’t touch
and a heart I can’t repair.

I was innocent then,
believing in forever,
believing in promises made with empty words,
believing that love didn’t need to be guarded
against someone who should have kept it safe.
Now that innocence eludes me like a phantom,
something I’ll never hold again
because you took it.

The toll is a weight I carry in my bones—
the hollow feeling in my chest,
the rage that still burns when I think of all that was lost,
the silence that I can never fill.
I didn’t just lose a love; I lost my belief in it,
my trust in people who say they’ll never hurt you.
I lost the girl I was before the lies,
before the manipulation,
before the gaslighting and the silence.

Thirteen years, and I’m still angry
that I have to live with the scars,
still angry that you got to walk away
while I’m still here, picking up pieces
of something that doesn’t fit together anymore.
You gave me a heart that’s too hard to heal
and a mind that can’t stop replaying the scenes,
the words, the promises
that weren’t worth the air they took up.

It still hurts.
And I hate that it still hurts.
I hate that after all this time,
I can’t forget what you took
and what I can never get back.
I’m still mourning a version of me
that never had a chance to live,
because it was buried under everything you promised
and everything you lied about.
And now all I have is this fucking pain,
this anger
that never lets me forget
what you did.

-Amelia James