Amelia James Poetry

they called me a monster
before they ever called me a girl.

before the breaking.
before the silence turned sharp.
before survival made a weapon out of me.

they saw the curse
and never asked
where it came from.

no one cared
that i was beautiful once.
or soft.
or sacred.

they only cared
when i stopped being easy to touch.

so i stopped apologizing
for the way i flinched.
for the way my body
learned to defend itself
without asking me first.

but then—
there was you.

you didn’t raise your hands.
you didn’t come to fight.
you just showed up.
quiet.
open.
close enough to matter.

and i didn’t mean to hurt you.

i swear
i didn’t mean to.

but the part of me that strikes
doesn’t wait for permission.

and when it happened—
when you froze—
it wasn’t your eyes that broke me.

it was mine.

because i saw it coming,
and still couldn’t stop it.

because i was already mid-prayer,
mid-plea,
mid-no—
when the venom left me.

and after,
i didn’t chase you.
didn’t explain.

i just stood there,
letting the silence name me.
letting it echo
what they always said i was.

maybe they were right.



-Amelia James