Amelia James Poetry

i think the worst part
was how subtle it was.
how you changed just enough
to make me second-guess myself.
how the distance came in inches,
not miles.
how you said all the right things
but started meaning them less.

you thought i wouldn’t notice—
the shift.
the pauses.
the way your stories
got softer around her name
and sharper around mine.

you kept saying
you loved me.
and maybe you thought you did.
but you didn’t stop
double dipping
while my heart was still in the room.

you wanted the parts of me
that made you feel safe—
and the parts of her
that made you feel new.
you wanted both.
and somehow,
i was the one who felt guilty
for not being enough.

but i was never the one
who needed more.

you were the one
who couldn’t stop taking,
even when your hands
were already full.

you didn’t even notice
when i started disappearing.
not all at once—
just little pieces,
slipping through the cracks
you left behind
while chasing something shinier.

i didn’t leave with fire.
i left with everything you forgot to see in me.

and you—
you stayed hungry.
kept reaching for the version of me
that didn’t ask for anything back.

you called me bitter.
cold.
unrecognizable.

but i only turned quiet
because you stopped listening.
i only turned sharp
because soft stopped working.

you don’t get to be surprised
by the woman i became
just because she stopped apologizing
for the girl you broke.

you were nothing if not consistent—
i’m stuck unlearning the version of love
you taught me to accept.

-Amelia James