First Date

Jonathan Valania

July 1st, 2018


Nervous,

I sat tapping my leg—

awake, alert, scared.


Feigned ignorance when I saw you.

For some reason,

you made me shudder.


Coffee on the patio—

your laugh consumed the silence.

Under the wooden deck arches,

a summer mistletoe hung from nothing.


You noticed my Saint Christopher medal.

I told you it kept me safe.

You smiled, said

you liked men who still prayed.


You reveled in my confessions—

I spoke of the shelter,

the syringe,

the dogs I couldn’t save.

How leaving made me feel

like a murderer.


My vow to never kill—

an insurmountable hill.

My silence—

a pin drop away from breaking.


You looked at me—

eyes steady,

voice soft.

“Don’t cry,” you said.

“It’s safe.”


But nothing has ever felt safe.


We walked the streets

by coin flip—

each turn a dare to fate.


Your wild streak showed—

we climbed a building to calm it.

Twelve stories up.

I fucking hate heights.


But I followed.

And at the top—

we laughed.

We danced.


You were barefoot.

I was breathless.


I thought:

Maybe, maybe—

this was exactly

where I was meant to be.

 

Read the Next Poem

Birthday Exodus

 

Back to blog

Letters I'll Never Send

It started with evidence—court documents, voicemails, and text messages meant to prove what was done behind closed doors. But somewhere in the quiet aftermath, it became something else. A record. A release. A slow, sacred beginning.

Letters I’ll Never Send is a poetry and prose collection drawn from the wreckage of an abusive relationship. These pages hold what was never safe to say out loud—fury, sorrow, confusion, love twisted by fear. It’s not a story wrapped in resolution. It’s what healing sounds like when you’re still in the middle.

The print edition includes exclusive poems and reflections not found online. A portion of proceeds goes toward supporting survivors of domestic abuse.

This book isn’t just for the ones who escaped.

It’s for anyone learning how to live after.