I Whispered His Name to Death

I remember the first time I saw him,

He was arrogant and loud,

He still is to this day,

He is a man swollen with a twisted belief,

That nothing in this world stood above him.

The rules bend around him like frightened servants.

He is a true menace in plain sight.

Yet everyone adored him,

They worshipped the man who never loses,

The man who lives for the race,

The man who runs,

As if Death itself could never catch him.

But I saw the truth in him,

He is a thief wearing a crown

And then there was her,

The girl I loved in silence for a year,

From the shadows,

From the corners where my eyes could linger,

Without ever being seen.

She was perfect.

Too perfect for the world that surrounded her.

Her smile was soft,

Like something sacred only meant for me.

She was supposed to be mine,

And he noticed me staring at her.

He looked at her,

Then at me,

And asked if she’s mine.

I froze.

Just for a moment.

A single moment too long,

And that was all he needed.

He walked over to her,

As if she were a prize,

Waiting to be claimed.

He made her laugh in ways

I had rehearsed a thousand times in my head.

Her smile widened for him,

Her voice was soft and gentle,

Sweet enough to haunt my dreams.

Her body leaned toward him,

And his hand rested against her arm,

Like it had always belonged there.

She was supposed to be mine,

And he stole her from me,

Like it was nothing to him,

Like taking a coin from a beggar’s hand.

So I confronted him.

I demanded what was mine,

And he laughed,

Laughed like I was a joke

God forgot to finish writing.

Then he offered me a race for her.

He would even give me a head start.

He asked with a wicked smile,

“How badly do you want her?”

He knew.

He knew I couldn’t beat him.

But I ran anyway.

Because she was watching.

Surely she would see the truth.

Surely she would see that he was a monster.

A man who didn’t deserve her.

A man who would treat her like another trophy,

To hang on his wall.

I looked back,

And saw her clinging to him,

Looking at him like he was a god.

Why couldn’t she see what I see?

I ran,

I ran until my lungs burned,

Slowed down a little,

Not even sure if I was close to the finish line,

I had to look back,

Not understanding her devotion,

To her new god she just met.

As I was looking back,

He started running,

And he was already past me,

Eyes locked on the finish line,

Not even acknowledging me.

What happened to my head start?

He won.

Of course he won.

Years passed.

He never stops running,

He never stops flaunting her in my face,

She has his children now.

He doesn’t care about her,

The way I do,

He doesn’t love her,

The way I do,

He stole her from me,

Because it amused him.

Because it was a game to him.

I hate him.

I hate him in ways that poison the blood.

Every breath I take tastes like him.

Every night his laughter crawls through my skull.

I cannot outrun him.

I cannot beat him.

But there is one thing that can.

I whisper his name to Death.

Softly.

Over and over again.

Like a prayer spoken in the dark.

Death listens.

Death is patient.

Death waits for the right door.

And when Death finally knocks on his door,

I will be waiting.

Take him.

Break him.

Make him feel the terror,

Of being chased.

Let him run,

Until his legs shatter,

Until his lungs drown in fear.

Make him understand what it feels like to lose.

I would gladly give my life,

For that moment.

Take my breath.

Take my soul.

Take every second I have left.

Just for a chance,

For him to see Death.

A Little Race with Death

People have said that I’ve gone mad,

But they don’t understand,

I have always needed something to outrun.

I’m obsessed with racing the very best.

Obsessed with tasting victory like it’s rum,

Letting it burn my throat,

Letting it scorch my insides.

Winning is a flavor I savor slowly.

I roll it across my tongue,

And swallow it whole.

It is sweeter than candy,

Sweeter than love,

Sweeter than prayer,

I refuse to let go of its taste,

It’s irresistible and delicious.

I refuse to lose,

And I don’t care what I have to lose.

Or who.

Winning is the only god I bow to.

The only altar I kneel at.

The only voice I obey.

No one can beat me.

No one ever has.

No one ever will.

Death comes knocking at my door one evening.

Not gently.

It says my time has expired,

And my body belongs to it.

My wife collapses at my feet,

Crying, begging, praying

My children cling to her like loose fabric in a storm.

Their fear irritates me.

Death just stands in the doorway,

Tall and patient,

Certain it has won.

I feel it creeping into my lungs,

Freezing them from the inside out.

And my legs tremble,

For the first time in my life,

I feel slow.

So I make a proposal,

A race.

I tell Death I will run for my life.

That I had beaten better opponents than it.

Death laughs,

And whispers I’m already halfway gone,

My life alone is not enough of a wager

I smile,

And tell Death if I lose the race,

It can have me, my wife and my children,

Death pauses,

Saying it’s not their time,

I shrug and respond I’ll make it their time.

My wife gasps,

And says my name like she doesn’t recognize me.

I don’t look at her or my children,

Winning requires sacrifice.

Death laughs harder than before,

At her horror.

At my devotion.

And decides to accept my challenge.

Death offers me time to prepare,

But I refuse,

Because I never needed time.

Only a finish line.

The race begins without warning,

No starting pistol or countdown.

Just my heart trying to abandon me.

Death moves like smoke beside me,

Effortless.

Unbothered by me.

The ground beneath us fractures into shadow.

Each step feels stolen from eternity.

My lungs collapse inward.

Blood fills my mouth.

My vision splinters at the edges,

And Death pulls ahead.

Its fingers brushes my shoulder,

Cold.

Certain it had won.

But I lean,

I lean like I’ve never leaned before,

And I cross first.

There is silence.

Death stands at the line,

Defeated.

Studying me.

Bewildered that I have bested it.

Death admits I have won.

I collapse.

Gasping for air.

But I am alive.

My wife rushes to me.

My children sob against my body.

Their hands tremble with relief.

I push them away.

Their touch feels small,

And means nothing to me.

I am staring at Death.

At the thing that had never been beaten.

And I had beaten it.

The rush floods me,

Hotter than blood,

Sharper than oxygen,

I stand slowly,

And ask for one more little race

Death tilts its head.

I explain that one victory proves nothing.

My wife begs me to stop.

Calls it a miracle that I won.

But it wasn’t a miracle.

This was proof.

Proof that I was faster than the inevitable.

Stronger than the grave.

Better than the end.

I demand for Death to race me again.

Death studies me longer this time.

And says that I barely survived,

I grinned,

Then I barely needed to win.

The sky darkened.

Death began to fade.

And say that I cannot outrun it forever.

I laugh.

And respond I don’t need forever.

I only need to beat it again and again.

My wife whispers that I’m scaring her,

And I finally look at her,

And realize something important.

When I crossed that finish line,

I felt more alive than I ever had holding her.

More complete than the day our children were born.

Because they were never my greatest achievement.

Winning was.

Death starts to disappear.

I call out to Death,

It pauses.

Death feels something new with me.

Not fear.

Hunger.

I let Death know that I’ll find it.

The room feels colder.

I’ll chase illness.

I’ll chase war.

I’ll even chase rooftops and speeding cars.

Just so I can put myself in Death’s path,

Until it has no choice.

My wife starts crying.

Death watches her,

Then looks back at me.

For the first time,

It smiles at me.

It whispers that it’s looking forward to it.

Then Death vanishes.

I step outside,

And begin running.

Running away from my family,

And running towards Death,

Because now I understand something.

It isn’t life I’m trying to preserve.

It’s victory.

A high that rushes my veins,

And has me eager for more,

And there may come a day,

When Death finally wins,

But it won’t be because I slowed down.

It will be because I asked for one last race,

Just a little race with Death.

Love in the Margins

I remember the first day that we met,

You were lost and asking for directions to a formal event,

You were attending alone,

It was the same that I was going to as well,

And I was also attending alone.

You were a sight to behold,

You wore a beautiful red dress that traced your silhouette effortlessly,

Lipstick the perfect shade of bold,

Long black hair resting gently on your shoulder.

Light brown eyes that caught mine,

And refused to let go.

We would walk together to the event,

We stayed almost instinctively close to each other,

We laughed like we had known each other longer than a night,

The connection between us was pure and easy,

It felt right to be with you,

To guide you to the event.

When we made it to the event,

I thought we would go our separate ways,

But you wanted to be with me,

You still wanted us to be together,

You didn’t want any limitations.

And it felt natural being with you,

I had never wanted close proximity with someone,

Never wanted to see a smile up close,

Never wanted to memorize every detail about a person,

Could you be something more to me?

Could you be my opportunity to experience real love?

Could the possibilities be endless for us?

We were close after the event,

And you wanted us to be closer that night,

Closer than conversation,

Closer than laughter,

But I hesitated,

Because I knew crossing that line,

Would mean I could never return to who I was before.

So I went home and pretended restraint was strength,

But my imagination betrayed me,

I pictured staying with you all night,

Pictured the red dress falling like surrender,

Pictured us closing the space that we pretended not to feel.

We kept growing closer,

Learning each other’s fears and dreams,

You had me all to yourself,

I skipped obligations,

Let responsibilities blur,

Bent pieces of myself,

Just to fit into your world.

I wanted you to be the one,

The one I crossed the line for,

The one I learned love with for the first time,

But then you shook my world,

With a confession that would change everything.

Someone else already had your heart.

You were committed and anchored somewhere else,

But you still wanted me,

You told me I could have a place too,

Just not the whole place.

There would be boundaries.

There would be limits.

And that’s when the real battle began,

Things were now different and apparent,

Every time I moved closer,

I felt the invisible wall.

Every laugh was followed by restraint

Every touch carried hesitation,

Every hope came with a disclaimer.

I was fighting to claim space,

In a heart that was already occupied,

But I told myself love is complex,

Love isn’t always clean,

Maybe real love has its limits.

But deep down I wanted something more,

I wanted something reckless and whole,

I wanted something with no rules,

I did not want borrowed time,

Nor did I want shared devotion,

I wanted love without footnotes,

Without conditions or margins,

And you could not give that to me,

So I had to let you go.

But I wonder now,

Was I foolish to walk away?

Should I have accepted the space you offered me?

Should I have learned to love in the margins?

The Monster Behind Me

It comes every night.

Right when the world goes quiet,

And the lights stop pretending they protect me.

It’s never in front of me,

It stays behind me.

Always behind me,

Although this is scary,

This is strangely comforting for me,

Because I know where it will always be.

This monster frightens me,

My skin tightens when it’s near,

And my heartbeat forgets its rhythm,

And becomes a broken hymn swallowed by the dark.

It’s always so close to me,

I can hear it breathing through the dark,

It’s wet and slow,

Like it’s savoring the thought of me,

It wants me hollow,

It wants me shaking,

It wants me alive long enough to enjoy,

Savoring the thought of eating me alive.

So I run away from it,

Not because I think I’ll escape,

But because stopping feels worse,

Stopping means I have to finally face it,

So I run until my legs burn,

I run until my thoughts blur,

I run until exhaustion feels like mercy.

They say if I turn around and face it,

Something different will happen,

Something new will come my way,

They say it will lose its power,

They say it feeds on my fear,

But what if they’re wrong?

What if it’s stronger when seen?

What if it’s waiting for me to finally look at it?

I can’t face it like a madman,

With eyes wide open,

Pretending to be brave,

When all I can feel is terror in my heart,

If I turn around and it’s real,

If I turn around and it smiles,

What happens after that?

I refuse to find out,

I can’t face the unknown,

I have to keep running.

And running.

And running away from it,

That’s the choice I have to choose.

It torments me in unimaginable ways,

It drags my mind through every failure,

Every unfinished dream,

Every version of myself that didn’t survive,

And I only keep running,

And enduring all the nightmares it inflicts on me.

I want to believe there’s hope,

I want to believe I’m braver than this,

But that’s just wishful thinking.

I’m stuck in my own ways,

I’m used to running from it,

I’m used to the sound it makes when it’s close,

I’m used to how it keeps me low and alone,

I’m used to it nibbling at me,

Piece by piece,

Taking things that can’t be replaced,

Until I don’t recognize what’s left of me.

This monster will always follow me.

This monster will always be behind me.

I don’t run to escape it anymore,

I run to pretend it hasn’t already won.

The Sound of You Still Echoes

I can’t help but think about our old kingdom,

Remembering all the unnecessary papers in the room,

Stacked and spread around like skyscrapers in a city,

It was a world of pure imagination,

Paradise found in an unexpected place,

Built simply by listening to you,

Listening to the way you loved your saxophone

I wish I could go back to those days with you once more,

Why did those days ever have to go?

I remember the songs you used to play,

Especially my two favorite songs,

I can still hear the notes now,

Still feel the vibrations settle in my chest,

I felt your love for music,

Before I ever understood it.

I watched you practice with intention,

Study with seriousness,

Refuse distraction,

And be fully devoted to your craft,

Something you truly loved.

And that’s why your sound was always different,

And why no one else could ever compare.

I loved hearing you play jazz,

But gospel was something else entirely.

When you played,

I could feel your love for God,

It poured through every note,

And it was like a quiet offering of yourself to Him.

You knew your talent came from Him,

And you gave it back freely.

Your praise didn’t need words.

Your love for God lived in the music.

You knew the songs I loved the most,

You told me you were learning them,

Studying them carefully,

Excited to show me what you’d been working on,

Eager to teach me,

In ways I didn’t yet understand.

You taught me the value of effort in music,

And how it’s impactful in family and relationships.

You showed me how to pour into others,

Shared how love and kindness carry weight,

Shared that what lives in your heart,

Will always translate through your work.

I remember you saying people feel love,

And they’re moved by it,

When it’s real.

I learned so much from watching you play,

You taught me the meaning of hard work,

The beauty of devotion,

The power of knowledge,

The simplicity of love,

The discipline that keeps it honest,

And the faith that anchored it all.

Thank you for teaching me so much,

The sound of your lessons still lives with me,

The sound of your love reminds me to be gentle and kind,

Not be afraid to give fully to others and to myself,

The sound of you still speaks to my heart,

The sound of you still echoes.

I Wasn’t Supposed to Notice You

You were never part of the plan,

Especially not here of all places,

Not between tasks and passing hours,

Not while I was busy becoming more,

Busy becoming someone whole on my own.

I was focused on my work,

Focused on my discipline,

Focused on keeping my world small and contained,

Devoted only to God and myself,

Or so I told myself,

But then you appeared.

Glasses catching the light like a pause in time,

Brown eyes behind the frame,

So steady and warm,

Curly hair framing your face,

As if it had a mind of its own,

You were just soft chaos impossible to ignore,

And a thought I wasn’t meant to finish.

Now you arrive unannounced,

Sliding through my phone like a whisper,

And I tell myself not to linger,

Not to desire you more,

Like a precious gem admired only through glass,

But I hesitate every time our paths cross,

Caught between restraint and want.

You feel real in a way you shouldn’t.

You’re not loud or demanding,

But you’re just present,

You’re effortless,

And hard to resist.

I want to admire you quietly,

From a distance I swear I’ll keep.

I don’t want more,

That’s the truth I repeat like a prayer.

I only want the spell to loosen,

For your name to stop echoing,

In the back of my mind.

But you’re a drug I would never touch,

Yet I wonder about your taste,

Whether it’s love on the tongue,

Or a beautiful nightmare in disguise.

I rewind and rewind,

Lingering too long on moments,

That were never meant for me.

I’m praying this doesn’t deepen.

I’m praying that I can forget you,

But I worry that it’s too late,

Because I’ve already noticed you,

And now every version of forgetting,

Feels like a lie.

I carry your shadow in the corners of my mind,

A fleeting echo I can’t leave behind.

Another Quiet Night

It’s another quiet night for me.

Now that you all are gone,

I can hear so much alone in this place.

This place I’m not sure to call home.

This place I can never escape,

No matter how far I run away from it.

I’m trapped in this place forever,

This prison will forever keep me locked away from the outside world,

But I’ve learned to be okay with it.

It’s unbearable to be here sometimes,

Especially at night.

It’s so quiet at night without you all here.

Sometimes I think about your voices,

Sometimes I miss hearing them,

Sometimes I’m thinking about my own thoughts,

Sometimes I’m thinking I should talk to somebody

And get some help for my loneliness,

But then I shake the idea out of my mind

Because sometimes I can get through the night,

If I try my best not to think about you all too much.

You all simply had to go,

You all had to go to another place.

I hope you all understand

And know that I miss you all very much.

I miss the joyful and loving atmosphere that was once in this place.

I miss the good times we had together,

Sometimes I wish we could have those days together again,

I miss them so much,

But then I remember they had to end,

They were never meant to last forever,

And I think you both knew why they had to end.

Why I had to put an end to those days.

Now that you both are gone,

I only have quiet nights.

I’ve accepted the quiet nights,

And understand there will always be quiet nights for me.

That will never change for me.

Every night will always be another quiet night.

This is the end of “Another Quiet Night,” the first poem of the Night Terrors poetry series

Be sure to like, share and comment your thoughts on “Another Quiet Night.”

“Blood on the Wall” will be the next poem of the Night Terror series that will be posted next Saturday.

A Slow Process

The process of healing from anything is slow.

All it takes is a little faith, patience and trust.

There were times that I didn’t have time to trust the process.

Life was pushing me to hurry up a slow process.

Sometimes I would just forget about the whole process altogether.

Healing took too much time.

I couldn’t afford to give healing all my time.

Life had all my time.

The problems of life were always on my mind.

The pursuit of healing and happiness seemed like an impossible dream.

It seemed like only a few could have it.

Why couldn’t I be a part of the few?

Why was I a part of the masses that couldn’t heal or find happiness?

I wondered.

Every little thing in life just distracted me.

All the pain and hurt I kept inside held me hostage.

I could never be free.

I was always a slave to the past.

I thought freedom was an impossibility.

I’m free from bandage now.

Yet the wounds are still fresh and visible to me.

I hope they can disappear soon.

Or maybe they’ll just end up being a scar I barely notice.

It’s important to remember healing requires faith, patience and trust.

Healing is a slow process.

A Silly, Old Picture

I found a silly, old picture of myself.

It was taken years ago.

I looked so young.

I seemed so happy in this picture.

I also looked so silly.

Why did I close my eyes in this picture?

Actually, I did that a lot in pictures when I was younger.

It’s a shame.

I really do have some nice, light brown eyes.

I really had a lot of hair.

I can’t imagine myself with a lot of hair today.

Why did my parents decide to cut it?

I guess it would’ve been a lot to take care of it.

They had their own problems to deal with at that time.

They had some serious problems that they could never solve.

My hair was one less problem for them.

I really had a big smile in this picture.

I didn’t care that my teeth were all over the place.

It didn’t matter to me.

I just wanted to smile.

Why was it so easy to smile?

Now, it’s a little hard with my crooked smile.

I try to hide it at times because it doesn’t look right to me.

I got braces now to help with that problem.

Hopefully, I can have the perfect smile soon.

Life seemed so easy.

Life seemed so simple.

Life seemed like something else in this silly, old picture.

Happy Days

Lately it’s been easier to smile.

It feels like I haven’t had a sad thought in ages.

I’m proud of myself.

I’m proud of who I’m becoming and who I will be.

I can see myself clearly in the mirror.

There’s a certain level of excitement that I have for myself.

It’s a new feeling that I never thought I could have.

I really am heading in the right direction.

There’s no misdirection in sight.

Everything for me is visible and seen.

I feel visible and seen.

I remember carrying so much hurt.

I remember handling unnecessary shame.

I remember fighting demons.

I remember being lost and afraid.

I remember those days all too well.

Those days remain in the past.

Yet they haunt me every now and then in the present.

I hope I don’t have those days again in the future.

For now, I want to enjoy these days I’m having now.

They’re precious and priceless to me.

They mean everything to me.

I want them to last forever.

I’m thankful for these days.

These happy days.