I’m still working on this one (this is rough draft number five), but it’s beginning to take shape. __________________________________ Cancer, the silent killer. By the time you see the symptoms, it’s too late. Blood in the urine, bile behind the eyes. Jaundiced skin stretched over calcified bones; you watch the organs fail, one by one.…
I can feel it again. That melancholy, the dragging not-quite-depression, the cloying bitterness of self-disappointment is sneaking back into my heart. I don’t know why. I don’t know how. Life is good. Life is so good, it’s almost hard to believe. My marriage has never been better, I’m working my dream job, and I’m constantly…
There comes a point in time, when you realize you don’t deserve what you had. A time, when you see yourself for the bitch you truly are. You stand in the light and the blemishes paint themselves on your skin, little lightposts marking the path on your road to sin. There comes a time, when…
marriage crumbled, affair smoldered, while an eating disorder quietly consumed her from the inside out. ain’t it amazing what a smile can hide? ____________________________________________ Thank you for reading, ~ Victoria Elizabeth
and when the mask fades away stripped of the layers of false hope joy pride faith love all that’s left is a sad, sad girl ————————————- Thanks for reading, Victoria Elizabeth
At thirty years old, I am constantly learning how little I know. I must frequently face my own nescience and come to terms with the fact that there is always someone smarter, always someone more creative, and always – ALWAYS – someone more talented that will beat me in every battle. With this recurring dose…
This is a poem I’ve been working on (and endlessly tweaking) for the last four months. I can’t seem to get it where I like it, so I thought I would share it here and solicit feedback. Any ideas or thoughts are welcomed. ———————————– Does it ever dawn on you that maybe you’re just faking…
I was in a bad place a few months back and wrote a lot of negative, dark poetry. Since this blog is about optimism, I hesitated to share it publicly, assuming it would be poorly received or, worse yet, discourage some of my readers. After much thought, I opted to start posting the poetry and…
I am happy. Just a new definition of happy. An aware version. An evolved version. A less naive, less opportunistic, version. My mask is gone. I am not the woman I once was. An inspected soul is a vulnerable soul, and I’ve been keeping mine under the microscope lately; It’s bound to be bruised.…
Victoria Elizabeth Ann 