Title: "The Life We Chose"

If I have never met him,
Would I have paid attention to him or focused on someone else?
Or would I still look as disinterested as I did before?
It took her two years to emerge from her shell, and the first time she opened her inner world, she felt the spark.

He was never her type—she always went for tall, dark-skinned guys.
But his charisma and intellect never went unnoticed.
Then, she fell—deeply, woefully—into love, passion, and sex.

She tried to reclaim herself, to find a semblance of who she was before,
But she couldn’t—until she did the unexpected.
She asked him out.
She confessed, shy and breathless, waiting for his reply.
And he gave her what she wanted and more...

But on that day, he gave her an ultimatum.
“I have only four months to give you.
Will you stay or back out?”

He gave her the choice, and she knew that either option would lead to doom.
So she chose passion.
At least she would get to taste it.

© Victoria Damilola

The Measure of Forever

Youthful love, fun and giddy
I will forever embrace this joy,
And beneath the surface, I pray
To hold its essence close to my heart,
For my heart only recognizes yours.

See the fire that burns in my eyes,
A reflection of emotions long confined,
Now unleashed in your presence.
But how long will it remain, you ask.

Even as time persistently moves forward,
I will never cease to love you.
Because my forever is enbroiled with yours.
So look into my eyes,
Peer into the depths of my gaze,
And find the truth that endures beyond words.

If the world turns deceptive,
And everything around us lies,
Know that my love for you
Will always sing from within.
And if time ever demands that I make you cry,
Then watch my eyes—they’ve never learned to lie,
For they show only the language of my heart.

Even through the redefinition of love,
Allow me to be the redemption you seek,
The peace you need during those delicate periods.
For my heart was always meant to be yours,

Do not ask me how long I’ll stay
When "forever" is the name I whisper to the wind,
Seeking affirmation for the strength of love I beseech thee.

© Victoria Damilola

"To love truly and not have it returned is a pain that has no cure".
He loved me, and he knew I didn’t love him—not in the way he needed.
What can you say to a man when you know you’re breaking his heart? Words fail because they cannot heal the wound you’re causing.
I could promise to stop what’s tearing him apart,
but I knew I couldn’t, wouldn’t stop—because it would mean tearing myself apart too.
I wanted him to know I valued him, that I saw him, that I wanted him.
But desire is a fickle thing, and not all want translates to love.
I felt his body respond, even through our clothes,
and in that moment, I almost believed we were something more.
But deep down, I knew—I knew that what I offered wasn’t enough.
In a way, it was love, but not the kind that could fill the empty spaces in his heart.
It was love laced with sorrow, with the knowledge that it could never be the love he deserved.
Yet, to choose differently, to give him what he needed, would be to deny my own heart, to fracture the delicate balance I held within myself.
So, I stayed, caught between breaking his heart and preserving mine.

© Victoria Damilola

"Love costs nothing,
Yet a single day's love outweighs the mistakes of a thousand years."

© Victoria Damilola

"Taste and see that the Lord is good."

We taste of the wine, and we see it is His blood.
We eat of the bread, and we see it is His flesh.
For the Lord is good;
His Word was made flesh
And dwelt among us.

We behold it until we are found,
And evil has no power over us.
For wisdom has prepared a feast,
A feast to cure all foolishness.

We dine and drink, not to drunkenness,
But to be filled with His Spirit.
Let us sing and make merry,
Until we are found,
Until He abides in us, and we in Him.

© Victoria Damilola

Ripples of Letting Go 2

Some wounds cut us so deep that they stop us—from letting go, from growing up, from seeing the truth. Those emotional pains, thought to be gone for good, rise again to haunt us, no matter how deeply we bury them. Sometimes it might seemed a little late to be letting go of these things, but while I cried, I began to understand how much it had truly cost to finally release them. The echoes of the past lingered, reminding me that some battles aren't just fought once; they revisit us in quieter moments, demanding we confront the shadows we thought we’d escaped. The tears were not just for what was lost, but for the strength it took to let go and the realization that healing is never as simple as we hope.

© Victoria Damilola

Ripples of Letting Go

Though it feels as if you can,
you cannot die of grief.
A heart does not actually break,
yet sometimes your chest aches as if it is shattering.
Grief, with time, begins to dim—it is the way of things.

Then, one day, you smile again,
only to feel like a traitor.
How dare I be glad in a world where love is no more.
How dare I feel happy.

Fresh tears fall, not because you miss it as much as you once did,
but because giving up your grief is another kind of death.

© Victoria Damilola

Broken Choice

I could have her in my bed,
quenching the thirst lodged deep in my throat,
dousing the fire burning between us,
quenching it with the heat of our bodies.
I know that's what he thought when she proposed.
To him, she was just a free meal to consume
Not to savor, but to fuck and discard.

In her, he saw a will, hopeless and frail,
Malleable enough to mold into her own demise.
He manipulated her, steering her towards ruin.
Even when she glimpsed the flaws, she turned a blind eye,
longing to escape the cold grip of loneliness.

She saw in him a pilgrim of hope,
believing this time will be different,
hoping she could reclaimed what she had missed.
But he punished her cruelly for that,
withdrawing the very hope she clung to.

He assumed control, broke her in ways beyond repair
Yet, she can't bring herself to hate him,
For in the end, it was she who chose him.

© Victoria Damilola