And VdB is a writer of long and short forms of fiction, personal essays, and poetry. She received her B.A. in Liberal Arts with a minor in Creative Writing from Colorado State University and her MFA in Creative Writing with a focus in fiction from Goddard College.
Andi grew up in poverty in Texas as an only child of a single mother. Joining the military was her only way out, so Andi served four years in the Air Force as a Weather Forecaster. Upon her honorable discharge, Andi relocated to Denver, CO and found herself working for a plastic surgeon while she attended cosmetology school. Three years into her career, Andi was not satisfied with doing hair as a creative outlet and returned to her childhood passion of writing.
As an adolescent, Andi used journaling as a way to cope. As she moved through her writing education, Andi found that her close relationship with a pen and a piece of paper allowed her a freedom that typing could not. Everything Andi writes is first written by hand, as she believes it is the only way for her to access her unconscious mind.
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pack my bags
Quarter horse like I’m running a race Blinders on until my lungs shake and break Eyes locked or freeze framed? We float off the ground and then find out the helium’s fake Can’t live in space, can’t suspend this feeling while my hands fucking ache Stars in ur eyes, their dust in mine Gotta cut…
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blue July
nothing quiet like snow free falling from the sky matter meeting pavement like a feather soft lie
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u don’t know ur the villain
You wanted to paint me bad but these horns were cast from your shadow. Dangerous, & there I was spun in silk with punctured wounds, your thumbprints. I oozed infected acrylic you painted your roses dead then gave me credit for your blood canvas.
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escargot in the sewer
**Published in New Words Press Literary Mag, 2023 grabbed for scraps of attention like they were a delicacy nibbled and savored like a trapless mouse grateful for what I could get – for your cup of day old porridge. bland and thoughtless, hard to swallow, but it was you holding me – by my tail…
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Knives over Flowers
you live between atriums split somewhere I don’t hate you I don’t love you either I wish you well well away from me a lily, a butterfly delicate like the fuse to your unconsciousness deep brown but not hollow just empty not poured out, just never filled not an enemy, not a friend either
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I can’t be your mother, you are mine
water too cold, biscuit too sweet tea won’t work I can’t drink or eat my stomach shrinks but grows with pain You let me down and I want You to feel the same- way as I did when You drugged me, then hugged me, every night before bed You wanted to love me but punished…
A. VDB 