Amelia James Poetry

I kept your name like a splinter beneath my skin,
A jagged reminder of where you’d been.
You left me stranded in your storm, soaked and bare,
Your love was a bonfire; your lies filled the air.

Memory drips like rain through a fractured roof,
Pooling in corners, elusive but proof.
Now I sift through the ashes of what you concealed,
Revealing the truths you fought to keep sealed.

I knew about the cheating, the threads you’d entwined,
The smoke from your words, the fog in my mind.
You painted a picture, a canvas of charm,
While holding the matches, preparing the harm.

All summer long, you dangled the sun,
Promising warmth, but leaving me undone.
I clung to the hope that love could be mended,
While you planned a future with another woman whom you’d wed.

And you—so venomous, so skilled with your guise,
You told me I wouldn’t know what a real man implies.
I said, “How could I, when my compass couldn’t work,
Your lies were True North, and the truth left to hide.”

And her—did she see the cracks in your disguise?
The way you’d shift with each new set of eyes?
Did she know she wasn’t the first you pursued,
Just another pawn in your cycle of misuse?

You thought you’d buried it, the sins in your trail,
But I’ve gathered the pieces, built the full tale.
Every whisper, every shadow your love tried to hide,
I’ve held them all, my scars now my guide.

I hope this finds its way to your family’s ears,
Let them feel the weight of your discarded years.
Unaware these words are tethered to you,
They’ll gasp at the betrayal, not knowing it’s true.

Wouldn’t it be ironic, them reading and condemning,
Not realizing the monster under their own roof?
Wouldn’t it be justice if this reached your wife’s sight,
And she found herself reflected in these lines I write?
She’d nod in agreement, her heart breaking, too,
Never suspecting the villain described is you.
What a betrayal that would be—for you, so cunning,
To be unmasked by the very hands you thought were undeserving.

One day, I’ll weave it all into a book of fire,
Each page ignited with the truth of your mire.
Your name will stay hidden, but the venom will seep,
And if you ever read it, it’ll steal your sleep.

You left me crumpled, a forgotten note in the rain,
Fragile, soaked, dissolving in pain.
But I’ve dried myself off, turned the ink into art,
Sharpened my resolve, reignited my heart.

Even though this is my story, carved out of despair,
It’s a tapestry of lies you thought wouldn’t tear.
It’s a past I’m reclaiming, a scar I’ve refined,
By bringing to light the truth you left behind.

-Amelia James