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

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

A beautiful day to get lost,
Following the traces of you.
The sun kisses my skin—
The way you used to.

Fingers drift through blades of grass,
Remembering how softly they touched you.
My love, my other half,
That grounded me to this earth.

Eyes wide open,
Memories find you to share this beauty.
I find myself standing in an open field,
Blue skies unraveling to gray—
Billowing clouds travel like words unsaid.

Your kisses pull away as the light fades out.
A familiar distant thunder crashes into my bones,
Moving the earth beneath me.

Seconds between raging lightning,
Splitting through the skies.
The keeper of my dreams,
Before the tempestuous sky became your eyes.

The tremors break.
The storm is coming.

I steady this heart—
Shaped like my tired, breaking body.
With fury and wind,
The cold, heavy rain finds me,
Burning like embers escaping a blazing fire.

I wrap my arms around myself,
Whispering:
Did I deserve this?
Did I create this?
Did I make this worse?
This is my fault.

But before the thoughts can comprehend,
Before my mind can settle in,
The rage retreats,
The storm fades—
As quickly as it came.

The rain, it gives.
The clouds shift again.
And the sun warms me,
Wrapping its arms around my cold, soaked body—
The way your arms always did.

For a moment, I clench my eyes,
And your gentle love is with me.

And I love you—
Again,
And again,
And again,

Without armor.