Amelia James Poetry

I find myself again

At the front door

Of our abandoned love.

I’m wearing out my welcome

With the many times I visit,

Yet I cannot seem to stay away.

Cobwebs cling to corners,
Sheltering forgotten memories—
Fragments of you and I,
Back when you still loved me.

I step inside,
Polaroid pictures
Lie scattered on the floor,
Each one a fragile testimony
That it once was real.

Through the hallway I wander,
Past a room once familiar.
The record player spins,
Echoing faint whispers
Of “I love you” and laughter.

In the den, I find
Notes scattered on the desk—
Evidence I had clung to,
Proof that this love
Had meaning, at least for me.

The kitchen calls next,
Its fridge light casting
Shadows on dusty tiles.
Imprints of our lovers’ dance
Remain etched in the floor—
A fleeting harmony of souls
That once moved in tandem.

In the living room,
The TV hums with flickering
Black-and-white reels
Of treasured memories—
A life we once dreamed.

Down creaking stairs,
I flip on a dim light.
The basement greets me
With its musty scent,
Tainting every “I love you”
And hollow promise of forever.

I climb back up,
My heart heavy,
Piecing together
The lies you spun.
Every room I loved,
Every cherished memory—
Nothing but a stage
For your masquerade.

Finally, I reach the attic,
Hoping for one last glimmer,
A thread to tether me
To the belief
That my love was not in vain.

Among the dusty boxes,
I find your old sweatshirt—
The final clue.
Its threads unravel,
Exposing the truth.

This house was never a home.
Our love, a one-way street.
A place of wondrous daydreams
Now haunted by nightmares.

You had moved on long before.
It was her all along, not me.
I was a placeholder—
Never for keeps.

Now I stand,
Stuck at the crossroads,
Mud wrapping around my feet.
I cannot leave,
But I cannot stay.
This house we built together
Binds me still.

There’s nothing left for me here,
But neither is there anything elsewhere.
I’m forever bound to this place,
Unable to let go.

-Amelia James