All The Things You Said To Me That Turned Out To Be A Lie

girl in confetti
Noah Buscher

When we first met, you said you were lucky to be with me. Your exes had treated you terribly and you knew I wouldn’t do the same. Guess you forgot to tell me that you would end up treating me like shit in the end too.

You also told me you really, really liked me. You said it again on the phone call where you ended it.

Can you see why I’m confused?

You also said you didn’t think you’d have this great of a connection with anyone and that I was ‘different’. Is this what you do to ‘great connections’?

On our first date you complimented me. Actually, you showered me with them. Were you glad I believed it?

And then on the second date I held your hand while you drove and you told me not to stop. You showed me where you lived and told me about your childhood and I made fun of the glasses you wore while driving.

Do you miss me holding your hand yet?

You once called me for over three hours. You told me you were an honest person and you never lied. And then you said the real kicker, you promised you would never hurt me.

And I believed you.

Maybe I’m an idiot for believing you were different from the rest. Maybe I’m a stupid, naive girl, for trusting you whole heartedly.

On the night you ended it with me, you said you were confused. You didn’t know what you were doing. And that’s when I lost it. Because if you thought you were confused, what did you think I was? I didn’t see that coming. Not at all.

I told you I wrote a poem about you, right after our first date. You told me, ‘I’m calling it. Your next book will have a lot of poetry about me in it!’

At least you were damn right about one thing.

Lauren Jarvis-Gibson

For more poetry and writing follow me on Instagram!

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You look back and you just feel stupid.
You can’t forgive yourself for falling
or believing all the lies.
You reread every text.
You relive every memory.
And it all starts making sense —
he never wanted love.
He only wanted attention.
He only wanted validation.

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