Fabricated Lies: For Broken Hearts and Hurting Souls

By Ollie Dempsey

This is a book filled with poetry created from feelings and memories. It in a way is fabricated, the words used that make these feelings seem pretty hide truths of the reality of these things.

They make our pain look kind and easy, and our love looks simple and small, but these poems hide truths’s can you find them? Some of these poems might hurt your heart or heal your soul, but I wonder if you readers will be able to find yourself in these. I hope these poems reach you the way they reached me as I typed them.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris NZ
• Release date: Dec 27, 2023
• ISBN: 9781669881261

Book preview

Copyright © 2024 by Ollie Dempsey.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Getty Images are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Getty Images.

Rev. date: 12/20/2023

Xlibris

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Dedication

To my beautiful, amazing, and ofcourse supportive friends,

Maddi, Bethany and Melody,

For this wouldn’t be happening without you guys,

I love you guys and thankyou.

Introduction

This is a book filled with poetry created from feelings and memories. It is in a way fabricated. The words used that make these feelings seem pretty hide truths of the reality of these things. They make our pain look kind and easy, and our love looks simple and small. But these poems hide truths. Can you find them?

Some of these poems might hurt your heart or heal your soul. I wonder if you readers will be able to find yourself in these. I hope these poems reach you the way they reached me as I typed them.

There are triggering mentions in this book, E.G Mentions of suicidal ideations, suicide, selfharm, sexual assault, addictions, drugs, and death.

There aren’t trigger warnings on the poems so please be cautious moving forward.

This book is also messy and chaotic, so be aware. Enjoy the ride and may you have a lovely journey.

May your heart know love

and may this be a reminder that love does exist.

Poems For

The Lovers of Love

The Poems

For the Readers

For the Romantics

Unread

Creativity

Descriptions

Let Me Capture You in a Painting

Passionate

Passion

Temporary Happiness

Feel Alive

Imagine

Searching for a Thing Called Love

When I Fell

I Am in Love with You

I Left a Part of Me Behind

Always and Forever

Featherlight

Kissing

Uncontrollable

Have You?

For the Readers

I fell in love with the way the sentences lined the page.

How it sits so correctly and evenly, filled with grammar and punctuation.

Numbers across the bottom, labelling each page.

I fell in love with the way stories are told, with the words used through metaphors and similes;

To attempt to describe things simply.

I wanted to try to create something of the sort,

Something aesthetically pleasing and heartfelt.

That is how this all came to be,

That first night I placed my pen to paper and created a poem.

I can’t tell you whether it was one full of smitten love

Or cold nightmares.

But I recall the rush of adrenaline I felt as the words poured out.

I was afraid that it would stop,

That I would become wordless for the first time.

I was scared to be unable to explain something

Through description,

Through a long list of adjectives used as weapons.

I remember the way I couldn’t stop writing

As I needed a release.

When you told me it would be a good idea.

You showed me your pages,

Asked me my thoughts,

And I recall the feelings

Caught in my throat,

That feeling of choking,

The inability to simply form a normal sentence.

I remember reading it aloud.

Most likely stumbling over errors in my handwriting,

Watching your face light up.

I remember referring to you like a dream.

I fell in love with the words instead of the person,

Instead of the being who created them.

I just continued to turn page after page,

No longer acknowledging the author,

The person who poured hours of unattainable time

Into a book on a shelf

That taught me to feel.

The lines on the pages reminding me of the lines in a textbook, never really certain of whether it should end.

But it continues word for word and sentence by sentence.

It continues until all the pages are full,

Until the ink in the pen has bled dry.

I fell in love with the voice in my head reading the syllables to me;

Each thing forms an object forming an idea.

The words follow me into tomorrow instead of staying here today.

As they were already found yesterday but forgotten last week,

Forgetting time is measured but not stoppable or weighable.

I fell in love with words on a page that are malleable and changeable,

Things that can lose context and gain it like a single character.

                For the readers

For the Romantics

I want to write one of those poems where the boy kisses a girl softly and sweetly.

As the rain floods their senses, their skin is left heated.

Joy floods their hearts.

Whispers of I love you

And quaint smiles, giggling as if they were drunk.

After the rain stops pouring,

And the confessions of favour finish,

They sit down, the girl cradled in the boy’s arms like she’s a delicate doll.

A sight of youth.

Memories made.

She will remember him because he was the first boy to make her heart feel warm.

To make her smile grow large.

He will remember her because she made him feel loved as he was.

Neither had to lie to each other’s faces to see each other.

Both different but contrast ever so perfectly.

Maybe this was their version of soulmates?

They were fated to love each other,

To meet on the sourest of days and still see good,

Like the universe’s wish of hearts.

They fall deep, hard, and fast.

I want to write a poem where they fall in love.

Unread

A page of a book not yet read.

The reader is unsure of whether to venture into the unknown.

The story left unread, unseen, and unknown.

Even as pieces of the pages whisper in the breeze,

She has a glint of joy in her eyes.

Her smile is always genuine and precious.

Loud laughter and funny jokes follow her.

She is someone yet to be known.

Every little thing is like a clue to a mystery.

Who is she?

The small conversations, little smiles in passing halls.

Is she someone to know,

Someone to cherish,

Someone to love.

Words I have not yet read but I know exist.

Pages I have yet to touch with my fingertips.

I am the reader, and she is the story I crave.

Creativity

Paint a picture,

Write a story,

Capture what others want to see.

Possibly in a photograph, sentence, or a brushstroke,

A charm so enticing even angels could fall.

And devils would climb, wanting to know

Who he is.

Somebody to fear?

Somebody to … love?

A faint haze sits between me and the truth.

Addicted to the thought and feeling of him.

Like a moth to a flame everybody adores him,

His laugh,

His thoughts,

His smile,

He’s so scary because he is new and everything others want.

Like a diamond when the light hits, he shines.

Unlike a fire who burns,

The light can be blinding

Yet so irresistible.

Descriptions

Describe a place, describe a boy,

Describe the flowers in the park today.

Create an image

Filled with colours and a beautiful sky.

With the soft, warm, dewy grass and quiet winds,

The forest becomes alive.

Birds waking to the bright sun, with the pastel skies covered in soft Clouds.

Dawn is arriving

Slowly as the rest of the world catches up.

Describe it all.

Like you’re writing a page in a book about this morning.

The way the world lights up, and families rise from their beds.

Create picture-perfect scenes for the point of description.

View the image you want to see as only you see things with your eyes.

Write it all down, express things, try things.

                                                Describe it all.

Let Me Capture You in a Painting

I wonder if I could capture you in a painting,

So I could keep you to myself.

Or maybe in a sculpture

Crafted in clay,

So I can carve your features into cement,

Make it something immortal.

I wonder if we could find colours within the imperfections of life.

Some days I imagine what it would have been like

To forget how I used to crave that feeling at heart.

I wonder if I could use a paintbrush

To trace your features

As you are a work of art,

One that holds my attention,

Making it unwavering and attentive

In an almost childlike way, as finding your freckles

And losing time in your eyes.

So I wonder what it would be like with that feeling solidified,

Captured in a series of layers left to dry,

my pretty love.

Passionate

The definition of passion in my words;

A strong