You’ve Never Met Me
Read more poetry by Britt Wolfe
You think you know me.
You built your story out of fragments—
a rumour here, a silence there—
stitched together by the trembling hands of your own projection.
You made a ghost of me,
a shadow to sharpen your own light against.
But you’ve never met me.
Not the me that stands steady
when the ground splits.
Not the me that rebuilds herself quietly,
without applause,
without witnesses.
Not the me who has learned to make peace
with the sound of her own name
when others spit it like poison.
Allow me to introduce myself.
I am the brick wall your rage keeps breaking against.
I am the echo that outlasts your accusations.
I am the soft voice that does not tremble,
even when the world shakes.
I am the intelligence you dismissed
because you couldn’t control it.
The strength you mistook for arrogance.
The calm you called coldness.
You have never met the woman who buried the girl
you thought would keep apologizing.
You have never seen the fire I built from your ash.
I do not answer to your lies.
I do not bend for your comfort.
I do not live in the stories you write about me.
Because here’s the truth you keep missing—
I am not what you say I am.
I am what survives it.
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WHERE WORDS MEET MORNING LIGHT
BEGIN EACH DAY WITH SOMETHING BEAUTIFUL
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Poetry Anthologies by Britt Wolfe:
