Foreword

The month of love is over, and spring is calling. Last month’s writing prompt was about love in whatever form it might take. Those four letters define the meaning of life to many a tormented storyteller. We could ramble about love’s transcending power to build, destroy, nurture, and kill. However, we’ll spare you our philosophical quips and allow Karla Espinoza Rojas, our student writer of the month, to deliver a poem that captures the piques and valleys of a tumultuous love. Espinoza’s poem is unfiltered in a way we hope inspires you to be true to your experiences, not allowing pain to hold you back but, rather, as fuel for your creative engine. And who knows? Perhaps your best writing yet is just a heartbreak away. 

Your Blog Editors,

Angela Mlowe and Zoey McRae

*TW: Themes of abuse.*

The Lego Flowers You Got For Me Were Never Mine

By Karla Espinoza Rojas

I placed my trust into your hands,

like fragile glass, like shifting sand.

You held it close, and swore it true,

but all the while, you quietly knew.

You knew the weight of every lie,

you knew the nights, the alibis.

You knew my love was deep and vast,

yet let it shatter, let it pass.

You kissed me softly, held me near,

you whispered words I longed to hear.

But while my heart was bound to you,

your hands were tracing someone new.

Like a house built high on brittle stone,

I thought we stood; I felt at home.

But cracks ran deep beneath my feet,

so now I stand here in defeat.

I had to get tested, had to be sure,

sat in a room, cold and pure.

Strangers searched for what you left,

a sickness felt but not expressed.

Clean, they said—except the ache,

except the trust you chose to break.

That feeling, just under my skin,

crept some unholy thing within.

Just a body? Space to fill?

A name crossed off? A moment killed?

Was I the rainfall, soft and light,

while you chased fires in the night?

I miss the laughter, that warm glow,

how, when we’d talk, the world moved slow.

But now the air is thick with weight,

with silence heavy, laced with hate.

You do not speak, you do not stay,

you turn your back, you fade away.

Is guilt what keeps your voice so small,

or did you never care at all?

The Lego flowers—I threw out fast,

breaking like love that didn’t last.

The yellow petals hit the floor,

and just like us, they were no more.

I screamed, I burned, I lost control,

I let the anger take me whole.

But fury fades, and what is left?

Just emptiness, just quiet death.

You say there’s nothing, no excuse,

no grand reason for your abuse.

You did it all and made your choice,

leaving me with a hollow voice.

This place we built is not home,

these haunted halls where shadows roam.

I miss the lie, I miss the past,

but broken glass cuts deep and fast.

So let me bleed, let me weep,

and let me lose the nights of sleep.

Let the grief consume my mind,

for truth is cruel, but truth is kind.

I’d rather ache, I’d rather drown

than wear a fool’s forgiving crown.

Though love was real, so was the knife,

and I will not bleed for you twice.