Played Me Twice

I cared—
but you showed me you didn’t.
Twice you hurt me,
played in my face,
toyed with my feelings,
left me broken—
mentally scarred.

You lied,
again and again.
Said you loved me,
said I was pretty,
said you wouldn’t leave,
that we’d last more than a year.
But words were just words—
empty promises,
fading echoes.

Now I don’t believe in love.
I don’t trust.
I don’t do long-term
because of you.
We weren’t even long distance—
same area,
same streets,
almost every day together.

You broke up with me
two days before your birthday.
I had gifts—
but they never made it to you.
I cried every night,
poured my heart out
to friends who couldn’t fix it.

We “got back together”
the night before my cruise,
but we never really did,
did we?
You posted you were single—
and I didn’t even hurt
the same way.

10/10/23—
the first time we broke.
Months of silence,
but every couple weeks,
you’d text,
give me hope,
like maybe,
just maybe
this time would be different.

But it never was.

I still love you—
but I hate you too.
I hope you grow up,
stop playing with hearts
like they’re toys.

I wish you well,
but I hope you remember—
you played me twice.