“All I wanted to do in my painting, the story I wanted to tell was: Look around you; they’re still here.” - Vincent Valdez

Years ago, I stood in front of it,
Anger, sickness, heartbreak,
All at once.

This is modern day.
Men in fancy watches,
Women in nice jewelry,
Holding their children.
In the background, a new truck,
One on his smartphone.

Angry, they hid behind robes,
Faces unseen, hidden, uncalled out.
Angry at their entitlement,
White, racist, arrogant.
Angry, knowing they were just a part
Of a bigger, uglier whole.

Disgusted, this was their normal,
Walking society's paths,
Believing their false superiority.
Disgusted, upper-class arrogance & bigotry,
Feeling more entitled, undeserved.
Disgusted, holding their children,
Teaching hate instead of love.

A grandmother walked in,
With daughter and granddaughter,
Seven, maybe.
This grandmother, strength personified,
A history facing all phases of prejudice.
The daughter, resentful,
Hardened acceptance,
Knowing this is our world.
The youngest, bright-eyed,
Clueless to the view,
Happy and innocent,
Listening to her Grandmother’s and Mother’s words,
Eyes uncertain, back and forth,
Until the words and the painting settled in,
Turning innocent eyes hollow & dark,
Shifting her spirit.

I broke, walked away,
Stomach churning, heart aching.
What is it like to be judged,
For just existing,
In a world so prejudiced?
I imagine so much like this moment.

I wanted to hug them,
To say it will be okay,
But I’m a white stranger,
And I know it isn’t.

Fixing this goes deeper
Than government’s reach.
Racism taught to infants,
Raised to hate, a cycle unbroken.

I watched George Floyd,
Helpless in the face of it.
Engraved racism, an impossible fight.

Yet, I see many stand,
Speak up, come together,
And in that, I find hope.

Darkness surrounds.
A candle flickers
in the mirror’s reflection—

A glimpse of your eyes,
no more than twelve,
nose to nose
with your own shadow.

Say the name.
The legend says
the demon will appear.

One time.
Two times.
Three times… more.

Until your future self
stares back at you.

You see the love, you see all of the broken parts, you see the monster with the glazed eyes that looks just like them—yet, unreachable. you see the hurt little boy that desperately needs to protect themselves to never be seen the way their father saw them—so they lie, manipulate, hate you for seeing their brokenness, for seeing them at all. And still you hold your arms out openly— to be their safe place, the enduring, unwavering, unconditional love that doesn’t leave, the love that doesn’t require perfection, the love that whispers—over and over—you are more than enough, I choose you, trust me to let all of this go, you are safe now.

And still — they break you

You push and you pull
Like a rubber band
You say all the right things
But you don’t understand
Why I pull away
And want to hold your hand
You think I’m just free
But you don’t really know me
I’m not ready
To fall so hard
You keep coming
For pieces of my heart
I guess I’m enough
When you want me
But im not enough
When she’s on your mind

—

You stretch and recoil
Like a taught rubber band
Articulating perfect words
Failing to understand
You wonder why I retreat
While longing for your hand
You imagine I’m careless and free
Never truly seeing me

Unprepared to tumble, deep
Yet you persistently seek
Fragments of my heart
I seem enough when you desire
But falter in your eyes
When her shadow conspire

—

How many ways can I write this?

Could I find you in everything?  
Would you look at the skies as I do?  
Would you see all their shades of gray, and blue?  
Above rooftops and trees,  
Above homes filled with families,  
Would you see all for what they are?  
A symphony of love at the center of hearts?

Could I find you in my hands?  
In the calluses and soft touch,  
Would you be harsh, gentle, and just enough?  
Could I find you in the words I carry in my palms,  
Flowing rivers of thoughts that sing like a song?

Could I find you in the mornings,  
When I wake before the sun,  
When life is love and love is life,  
And you are the only one?  
Could I find you in my coffee,  
The way it warms me softly  
And leaves its taste upon my lips,  
The ones I wish you would kiss?

Could I find you in my shoes or my dress,  
Or the table beside my chair?  
Could I find you on the couch,  
Or in the stillness of the air?

Could I find you in my arms,  
Where I imagine I hold you close?  
My very sweet dear friend,
Is it wrong to want you the most?  

Of all the night skies I’ve gazed upon,  
Your light is the most true.
You are the moon above my sea,
Your glow dancing upon waves set free.
I could find you in everything,
In all that I feel and see
Turning this scattered life of mine
into beautiful poetry

For now, I’m going to stop.  
I have a lot to do.  
But just for a moment,  
All was lost and everything was you.

(To be revisited, one day)

I’m sorry you choose not to be there
Or to be there when he is born,
when eternity folds into itself
and he takes his first tiny breath
I’m sorry you won’t hear his cry,
The small, precious sound
You won’t see the way he fits
perfectly into my arms.
I’m sorry you won’t witness how love arrives
without asking permission
he will be loved with every bit of my own.
He will grow surrounded in safety and beauty.
In your absence,
he will never be without wonder.
But it breaks something in me
to know you chose not to stand beside him
that you choose not to stand in that room
when the world made room
for just him, my tiny darling.

I stood there humbly with my head down
looking at my feet
I felt as you took me apart piece by piece
I patiently waited as you analyzed me.
I listened quietly while you told me all of the reasons I wasn’t good enough.
I listened when you told me you couldn’t respect me, my love.
I let you compare me to your ideas,
to the people you know.
I carried that hurt and I didn’t let it show.
I ****** up my pride and convinced myself that this is just what you need to do,
And one day you will see that I really was enough for you.

I realized I’m doing it again.
Holding hands with my childhood friend.
Every time I see you I am filled with anxiety.
As long as I love you, I will always bleed.

Open the door.

I’ll be here when you do.

I’ll be here to let you back in.

You won’t get lost.

I won’t let you.

The monster isn’t real—

but the pain is.

The wounds you carry
beneath
 your perfect armor

are real.

Can you hold the mirror

without shattering it?

Can you see into your own eyes

the way I do?
Can you believe

the way I still do?

I can’t carry you.

But I can stay.

I can wait—

days, months, years, or lifetimes—

right here, at the threshold.

And when you find your way back,
I’ll be here,

watching as the handle turns
to see your face again.
He’ll be waiting too,
to hold his tiny hand.

And when you’re here—

on this side

where I’ve cradled him in my arms,
And closed my eyes

again and again

to hope,
to hope,

to hope—

I will hold you,
as if you’ve been gone forever.
I will not ask questions—
but I will read into your eyes,
as they’ve always spoken unsaid words.

And I will carry all they show me,
like remembered lullabies.

And mine will tell you back,
in the gentlest ways they can,
that you were always loved.

Burning nightlights,
shining galaxies away.
A secondhand
is still.
The ticking of a beating heart—
softened now.

The universe
drops a single tear.
A mother’s hand
against her womb.
Butterflies sink
into cotton sheets.
Poetic words
transcend in rhythm.

He’ll know
the moon.

She held her breath
And held her breath
And thought of him,
Left to gasp
For the thick, heavy air—
Air that sat still
Between them.

The short distance,
Within minutes,
But hours,
Days,
Weeks,
So far apart
From where we were,
Where we are,
Who you were.

I don’t know,
But you’re holding all
These pieces of the
Heart that I had taken
All of this time to piece back,
Back together.

And you hold it
In a scummy pawn shop,
Collecting the interest,
The interest I scrape together,
Just enough
To keep you holding them—
On a shelf in the clutter
Of your garage,
Mixed with everything you
Hold onto to discard
But can’t seem to part with.

She’s got your heart
With so much disdain,
Silencing your pain,
The subtle breaks
Behind music and sound
That drown the cracking out—
Like you did with me.

Still, I paint,
And in my visions,
On this blank canvas,
You’re all I see.

So I hold my breath
And gasp to breathe.

Let me go.
Let me free.

Tonight we took a walk.
For a moment, we were soft—
our hearts let go of all the pain.
We remembered the way we used to sway, together.
Your hand—
the place my soul could curl up and rest.
When my heart touched yours,
and your arms held me—
for a moment, I could breathe.
I lay my head on your shoulder
and let the weight fall from my chest.
Just for a moment.

I listened to all the things you said.
It’s hard to forget.
One day you told me you loved me.
Last week, you said it was pretend.
I wish you didn’t wear those guards—
the armor I could never break.

Tonight, we took a walk.
And I found the man I loved.
You said you have learned to be gentle—
that you have grown.
But why did it take my pain—
all of my suffering—
before you chose to change?

Was it not enough
when I said it hurt?
Was it not enough
when I said it hurt?
Was it not enough?

Why did it take my absence
for you to become the man
I already believed you were?

“All I ever wanted
was to love you.”

Tonight, I lay in your arms
and made love to you.

God, I love you.
And I will never be enough
to save us.

To finally feel peace.
To feel safe.
To fall deeply into the sheets knowing the love of your life would come home to hold you—
to comfort you.
Our baby tucked inside my womb, warm and safe and loved.
And I exhaled, as I let myself believe—no matter what—everything was going to be okay.
Finally.
We would just stay here.
We would make this house a home.

With eyes closed, I imagined us in the front room,
assembling a wooden crib with yellow sheets—and blue.
Getting ready for him, our little boy.

My love—
you were so kind. So gentle.
You were happy.
You were a partner, a friend, a lover,
the rest of my life.

Imagine the sun beaming through the window, soft and warm—
the way your eyes looked into mine,
how my heart reached for you.
My hand in yours—
and holding your hand felt like warmth and sun and soft rain.
Like dancing in the middle with you.
It felt like the past.
Like my future.
My forever.
My dreams.
The stars in the sky.
Every wish I had ever made coming true.

It was you.
My everything.
My love.
My husband to be.
The father of my child.
My trust.
My everything.
My everything.
My everything.

I loved you in the gentlest ways.
The most forgiving ways.
I loved you unconditionally.

I thought I was meant to soften all your sharp edges—
to carry the scars until the edges dulled, until they no longer cut,
until you no longer needed to cut.

You were my shelter from every storm I had stood through
since I was no bigger than the one I carried inside me.
And I—
I was the gentle eyes that saw through your armor.
The hands that reached for you every time you felt less than perfect.
The hands that took off your mask
and saw you.

Just you.

No ego. No pride.
No image to uphold, no guarded reflection, no facade.

I was going to be the one who stayed.
The one who stayed long enough
that you could finally let it all down.

I thought I could heal us.

But when you said, “I never want to see you again for the rest of your life,”
you may as well have driven your whole fist through my chest—
gripped my heart in your hand—
and ripped it out
while smiling,
watching me bleed.

And with one hand to my stomach, holding our son,
as silent tears traced my cheeks,
in my final breaths,
with trembling blue lips,
my voice would still have gently whispered,
I love you.

Tell me—
How I seduced you that night,
in your queen bed.
Tell me how I forced myself upon you,
How I bit your tongue,
How I inhaled your breath,
As though it was mine.

Tell me everything I did—
To take away your power.
How I unfolded without asking,
How I opened my mouth,
and my legs opened with it—
A budding damask rose,
Too fragrant to resist.

Tell me how I tied your hands,
& undressed you slowly.
How a man like you
So strong and grounded—
Could let go so easily,
Be taken so willingly,
As if my small body
Was stronger than gravity.

Tell me about the ****** favors—
The quiet taste of my gifts.
Tell me how I wrapped you in heat,
How we bonded flesh.
Tell me about the lucid flavors—
Did they taste like sacrifice?
Did they taste like surrender?

Tell me how you couldn’t hold back—
How you pressed into me deeper,
Like you wanted to own this body,
Like you already did.

And when you came inside,
Was it love?
Was it lust?
or just a raging storm
You needed to pour into someone?
Did it make you feel so powerful—
The fine china taken by the bull?

Tell me, when you said these words,
Did you pretend
Your hands were never in mine?
That they did not hold me softly,
like a promise to keep,
already broken?

Did you forget
The nights before—
How you leaned me over your bed,
Lifted my dress,
How you protected yourself,
before you let yourself in.
How I broke beneath your hands.
How you trembled too,
The way our souls collided
As I became one with you.

Did you forget
My love—
How our lips met like honey—
Sweet melting into sweet.

Tell me again
how you’re innocent and weak.
And I—
I am the predator.

You wanted me to speak your name
And so i did
I spoke it soft, i spoke it sweet, i spoke it
In love
But it was never yours to give
Yet, you did
In the fragments you could
Pry away that needed safe keeping
And I cradled them each
Individually like
Infants without mothers
Needing the warmth of flesh upon flesh

Silence—
like plunging my body into freezing waters,
sinking to the ocean floor,
where the dark, murky current swirls around me,
blinding, suffocating.
I scream—scream so loud—
but all you hear is silence.

Silence—
a concrete room with chained steel doors,
hidden in the belly of an abandoned building.
I pound on the walls,
scratch at the floor until my nails bleed,
screaming—begging—
Please, find me. Please, find me.
But there’s no one left to listen,
and all you hear is silence.

Silence—
a grave I dug trying to love you in all the wrong ways.
Buried alive beneath the weight of my own faults,
lungs filling with dirt,
mouth muddied with the taste of regret.
I gasp for breath,
screaming help, screaming I’m sorry—
until there’s nothing left but surrender,
and all you hear is silence.

Silence—
settling into my bones,
seeping into my flesh until it no longer feels my own.
I recognize the walls around me,
but this is not my life, not my home.
This is everything I know, yet do not know.
Every bone aches with a hollow pain—
too fragile to move.
If I do, I break.

Silent tears fall into my sheets,
pooling into the mattress where you never sleep.
What is this darkness in the space you used to hold?
A hollow cave inside my chest that echoes your screaming words—
I hate you. I hate you.
But I can still feel my love.

So I lay here in silence,
under covers that are too thin,
but heavy, weighed down by you.
Paralyzed.
Mute.
Words screaming in my head—silent, unheard—
words you will never hear.

And you will sleep soundly,
while my broken heart shatters deafening my ears,
and all you hear is silence.

What is a night but a place to get lost? Lost somewhere in the dark. The darkest dark. You know the kind. (You do.) The kind where everything you’ve loved is no more, the last ember has burned out, the final flame is gone—a power surge that knocked an entire city out, the bottom of a well, sitting on a freshly dug grave and screaming until your lungs give out. That kind of dark.

Will they find me? Will he find me? Will he look for me? Has he looked for me? Has he even thought of me? Was he even real? Was he? Was I? Were we?

If he was, he is a ghost now. And he harbors all of the light. He holds it selfishly—a thief—who showed me his face, the one I could trace with my eyes closed. But I dare not touch. I dare not touch. I dare not touch.

We touched. I melted into him like a fallen candle, pieces of me everywhere.

His eyes—green, kind, nervously intense. The way his lips tightly spread across his face, with two exaggerated peaks. The softness of his pale skin. His pretentiously ******* parted hair. The hair he fiddled with, over and over, creating a part he was supposed to not part.

Can I fall asleep now and pretend his hands have interlaced with mine, one last time?

A solace sleep.

Dream sweet, my dear.

Dream sweet.