Amelia James Poetry

I felt you again—
that flutter in my ribs,
a heat in my cheeks
I haven’t let myself feel in years.
Not since him.

You showed up in the quietest way,
like you knew I might run.

Not with grand gestures,
but with softness.
A shared song.
A roller coaster plunge.
A door left open for me to walk through,
and I did.

And you were there.
a face familiar yet new.
Steady.
Present.
Nothing like the man before you.
And everything like him.

Because this is what he felt like, too.
At first.
Before the ghosts.
Before the manipulation.
Before my body learned to freeze at the sound of love.

So now I ask you—
What kind of butterflies are you?
Are you survival in disguise?
Are you memory pretending to be hope?

Because I’ve loved the wrong way before.
I’ve fallen for someone
just because he looked at me like I mattered
until he didn’t.

So tell me—
do you land soft?
Do you stay when the weather changes?

Or are you only here
because I’ve been starving?

Because I want to believe
you are the beginning of something gentle.
But I’ve been wrong before.

And I am not a girl you flirt into forgetting anymore.

-Amelia James