SINGLE, AND JOYFUL

SINGLE, AND JOYFUL: A poem from my upcoming spring collection. | By Amy Roullier.

Hi, if you’ve not visited my website before, I’m Amy. An indie writer, poet, and content creator based in Lincolnshire, UK.

I’ve been writing since my teenage years, although it wasn’t until 2021 that I truly rediscovered my voice through an online blog that challenged the outdated narratives around singlehood. (Now my Substack, Independently Yours, a space for anyone learning to romanticise solitude and live life unapologetically on their own terms).

Sundays with Myself, will be my second poetry collection

A celebration of solitude, singlehood, and the quiet power of choosing yourself. (Coming Spring 2026)

I never set out to write a poetry book about being single, especially as I’m not single anymore and have wrestled long and hard with my rights to talk about this subject. But I have been on this journey. I was single for most of my thirties, fighting the tiresome narrative that “single isn’t and can never be, ‘The One’ to become comfortable with.” And if I’d stopped fighting, I think it would have told me that everything I’d written in those years, everything I’d believed; about the single phases being so damn important to personal growth, about how empowering a single life can be once you’ve reframed any lingering negative narratives, it would have all meant nothing, if I’d stopped there.

So I have been an advocate for feeling good about being single since 2021, even writing a book about it: currently titled “Reimagining Single Life” (and in the depths of being edited for the millionth time), which challenges the tired tropes around being alone, and hopefully will inspire anyone who’s feeling disheartened by their solo status to feel empowered instead. I’m hoping it will be a reminder that self-dating, self-empowerment, intentional independence, shouldn’t only be reserved for our single seasons too.

I don’t have all the answers, but I have been on this journey.

Which is why I am writing this second poetry collection. Because it’s okay if being single doesn’t always feel like a revolution. Trust me, I know. Some days it feels like grief. Some days it feels like freedom. But I hope the pages I am writing will remind you that your life isn’t a waiting room. That wholeness isn’t something you earn when someone else chooses you. That your quiet, your joy, your healing, your life—and the way in which you live it—matter deeply.

It won’t be just a poetry book. It will be a celebration of a calm yet powerful shift.

A love letter to your own company.

A gentle hand on your back saying: You are already enough.

This is the first time I’m sharing something from that collection, and I really hope you like it.

SINGLE, AND JOYFUL

They said
joy
was a couple’s thing.
A we-thing.
A “they texted back” kind of happiness.
A “plus-one” on the invite kind of life.

But they forgot
to tell the truth:
That joy can arrive
without knocking
on anyone else’s door.

I didn’t find joy
in waiting.
In swiping.
In scanning a room
for someone
to make me feel chosen.

I found joy
on mornings with no plans
and coffee just the way I like it.
In long walks
with only my thoughts for company—
and finding out they weren’t so bad.

I used to think
singlehood was something
to survive.

Now I see
it’s something
to celebrate.

I used to think
“Just me”
meant
“Not enough.”

Now I know
it means:
I’m everything I need
without compromise.

No one tells you
how delicious
the first night
in your own space feels —
how silence
can be a kind of symphony
when you finally stop fearing it.

No one tells you
that a one-person bed
can still hold
peace.
Wholeness.
Power.

So let’s rewrite the rules.

Let’s burn the timelines
they handed out like warnings.
Let’s stop calling marriage
the final destination
and start calling single life
a journey
in its own right.

Let’s stop pretending
that love from another
is the only kind worth waiting for.

Because I’ve learned
to romance my own life—
and let me tell you:
she flirts back.

So here it is:

My declaration.
My resistance.
My quiet revolution.

I am single—
not stuck
not sad
not second-best.

And the joy?
It’s real.
I didn’t need someone else
to finally feel it.

I’d love to know what you think. Let me know if you liked this poem in the comments. My first poetry collection, Silent Reflections of a Fragile Heart, can be bought here.