Amelia James Poetry

Years Lost in His Wake

I lost pieces of myself

and never noticed

until they were gone.

How do you know

you’re losing yourself

when it happens slow?

Like drowning in a glass of water—

you never see it coming.

I kept waiting

for him to see me.

But I was invisible

the whole time.

Every glance he didn’t give,

every word he didn’t say,

was a loss I couldn’t name.

He made me believe

that the broken parts of me

were mine to fix,

when they were never broken at all.

He taught me to fade

and still, I begged for more of his silence.

To be wanted,

to be needed,

was to stay small in his world.

And I stayed,

clinging to nothing but hope

that wasn’t real

and promises

that slipped through my fingers

like sand.

I gave years to a man

who never saw me.

A man who played at love,

who molded me into something

I didn’t recognize

and never asked for.

I bled into him,

thinking that would make me whole.

But it only left me empty,

and I never knew it until now.

I am mourning her—

the girl I used to be

before I thought I could

make him love me.

Before I believed

that losing myself

was part of the process.

Before I learned that love

shouldn’t hurt like this,

shouldn’t make you fade,

shouldn’t make you question

if you’re even worth the fight.

-Amelia James