i see colors,
i feel darkness.
i see happiness,
i feel pain.

what is real
what is illusion?
i see cries,
i feel hope;
which to choose
in a world swallowed by chaos?
look within,
feel the light.

dark shadows cascading...
wherein lies the effervescent flower,
awaiting her blooming.
tampered by the darkness,
an eternity in hell.
trapped beneath the ruins,
upon when sorrow first fell.
luminescent in the sky
crystal clear cut blue,
the wounds have smoothed.
the blooming is near.
encompassed in her cocoon..
centuries gone by
solitude is key.
time is the grand healer,
nothing else matters.
awakened is the furnace, fueled by her heart
inside lies the door
once opened, unconfined
dozens of light radiated by kaleidoscopes
the key to pandora's box
her mind and her heart
awakened from the start
the snake which swayed fate
the hand laid to make way
evil's gone.
happiness is here to stay.

i am trying to start a creative spark,
but how difficult is that when ive got nothing to write about?
i can talk about the boy whose had me winded from the start
but how cliché would i be,
to write about a broken heart
i could speak of my pain and hurt
or how i CONSTANTLY feel like dirt
how unloved i feel,
or my unacceptable ways relating to,
how i deal.
with the suicidal thoughts of causing myself harm, and how easy it'd be,
to just runaway to some farm.
but i think, no, i truly believe that all good writing sprouts from a story of pain,
how in this world, we are all
nothing but a stain,
waiting, hoping, praying,
to be washed away.
when the time has come,
and we are lying in the ground with our deceased remains,
what will be the last memories that flash before our eyes to see?
probably that in the end,
life wasn't at all
what you expected it to be.
-vla

i am the mirror image of the broken girl
inadequacy is what i feel when i look at her
how she so effortlessly
does the things
i attempt to do in immense effort
she is my friend
my lifeline
but when i see her
envy
it reigns deep in my bones
inadequacy
it takes me off my off my high horse
i am no longer pretty or confident
i feel the need to shade myself
from the wandering eyes of his
as he looks at her
like he is her world
in lust
and i am
just me.
which seems to be never enough
i am the mirror image
of the broken girl
who walks through the halls
smile on her face
but deep inside all she feels is pain
all i can hope one day
is to shatter the image
and feel beautiful
just being
me.
-vla

what brings me solace in this cold world?
when the days are short,
the sun doesn’t come up anymore.
scarcity is all we know.
scarcity in love.
hope.
freedom.
peace.
the twinkle in your eyes,
the widening of your lips.
when you kiss me, it all crashes.
and just for a moment,
one very moment,
the world feels still—
and hope exists.
-v.la

his gaze lit me up,
his touch electrified my soul;
and created a ravenous hunger within me, a want, a need,
to consume every portion of his being.
for our souls to connect and synchronize,
for us to become intertwined, and
for the lust, and passion,
to engulf everything in its path, and literally, eat. me. alive.
-v.la

unravel all my layers, and allow yourself to be consumed. rewarded—with the manifestation of human art that is me.
the complexity of my mind reveals the innermost intricacies of raw, pure, unfiltered love, that none have yet been able to grace.
-v.la

it hurt when you tried to leave my life,
but make me stay in yours.
it hurt, when you looked at me,
but bit back the words that were suffocating you,
constricting your throat,
dying to rise to the surface
like an anaconda,
slowly but surely tightening its grip on it’s prey, squeezing the life out a being,
silencing your deepest convictions.
i watched in silence, hoping, praying, for the satisfaction of your words, strung simply by the syllables and sounds of this human constructed language.
but, what hurt even more, was knowing what you had to say,
feeling it,
but STILL,
remaining in silence.
it hurt when i couldn’t be the one to help you, or even more, help you help yourself.
it hurt when your hurt,
hurt me.
when it reflected MY own pain,
when it wounded MY own ego, shattering it once again,
from all the time and effort invested in you.
but this was a different type of hurt.
because you didn’t hurt me. not actually.
I hurt myself.
I hurt myself when i unknowingly stripped my essence of it’s beauty and elegance,
by allowing, yet again,
another fail at “love” to define my being.
I hurt myself when i gave away my power to yet again,
another trial, which ultimately,
does not matter.
so i thank you.
i don’t thank you directly,
but i thank the you from which your actions derive.
i thank the experience, and the feelings in which i felt,
even if they were only negative.
i’ll always be thankful,
because without you,
i wouldn’t have realized that,
i am love.
my sole existence, my very being,
is love.
and at the core, so are you.
because we are one.
and if i am love,
so are you,
and it’s just a matter of time before you realize it too.
-v.la