Amelia James Poetry

Once, she was soft as meadow bloom,
A girl who danced in dawn’s perfume.
Her laughter wove with morning light,
Unaware of fate’s quiet bite.

He came like shadow draped in gold,
A whispered storm, a grip too cold.
The earth split wide beneath her feet—
A love, they called it, bittersweet.

But love should never wear a chain
Nor masquerade as tender pain.
Yet still, she fell, through darkened skies,
Her petals burned beneath his lies.

In that abyss, she mourned her name,
Choked on the embers of her flame.
She learned how hollow echoes ring
When trust becomes a shattered thing.

Winter crowned her heart with frost,
Counting every cost she’d lost.
Yet even there, beneath her grief,
A seed of rage grew sharp and brief.

She turned her tears to iron song,
The fragile girl now fierce and strong.
The underworld bent to her will,
Its shadows swore to serve her still.

Spring’s return was not her plea—
She chose her throne beneath the sea.
But when she walked in realms above,
She wore her wounds like regal love.

For heartbreak, though it made her fall,
Could not eclipse her rise at all.
She bloomed anew from ash and stone,
Persephone, at last, her own.

-Amelia James