Worth- Donna/Raw writing, Part one of ten


The lights were dimmed.
We laid like straightened arrows in my bed,
me, alert and analytical.
My current bed partner, Landis, laid still with eyes closed and thoughts private.
For the past hour, we had committed an act of lovers. I kissed him like I could trust him, he caressed me like he needed me. We were passionate in ways only those who knew each other forever could be, yet I’ve only known him a short period of time. A few weeks, which to both of us felt like an eternity. I believed that he was the one I’d been calling on, that he was the one that all the other ones weren’t. I wanted to roll over and tell him that I loved him, because I was so full of it- but I knew that it would scare him off, So I decided to just look up at the roof of my bedroom and fantasize, maintaining to remain hopeful that someday he would be the one to calmly palm the chaos in my heart. Show me that I am worthy, more than just a fling in the sack for those who are on idle time. I tried to remain still, because I felt that if I moved he would remember where he was, here with me and not at home with his wife. The thought caused a temporary twinge in my chest. He’s married. Yes, I know. But I knew from the moment I spotted him reading the newspaper outside of our work building that he was the one I needed to focus on getting, and now he was finally here in my bedroom. “What time is it?” He whispered into the air. With each passing minute, it was clear that although the room was warm his body language was becoming more cold. I reached over and grabbed my iphone from my nightstand. “Its 12:16.” I turned the phone around to show him the time, and also catch a glimpse of his face in the light of my screen. Before I could get a good look, he swiftly jumped up and walked over to the accent chair where our clothing laid intertwined in passion. “Shit. Where is my phone?” He rummaged through his jeans and grabbed his black iphone out of the back pocket. “Damnit. My wife has called like 10 times.” His voice was in a quiet panic, like if he talks too loud she would hear him. “Why don’t you call her up and tell her that your with the fellas? You said before that you don’t usually get out.” I offered, but he doesn’t respond. He instead throws on his pants, sans underwear, followed by his socks and shoes and sat down at the edge of my bed. “I need you to know something Donna.” his gaze stayed away from my direction, that told me that the words I was going to hear were going to be ones I didn’t want to. “My situation is complicated. Right now, I just need someone who can provide me with the freedom that my marriage has not provided me. I need you to be understanding when she isn’t…I need my situation with you to NOT be complicated. Do you understand?” He then looks my way. I understand what he was telling me very well. He was asking me to be a shell of a woman for him, to console his heart and please his body when he needed it, selfishly, he wanted me to rid all of my expectations and live vicariously through the ideals of a pseudo monogamous relationship with him, holding on to the hope that one day it will be me that he would learn to love and put first. The situation he was asking of me, was one that only a mistress would and could accept. “Yes, I understand. I can do that for you.” I felt stupid after I said it, but the truth was..I could do that for him. Right now in my life I was hungry for whatever the universe was willing to give, and if that meant I had to have a limited relationship then that’s just what has to happen. I watched him as he stood and prepared to leave, it now being 19 minutes after midnight. “Thank you for the great dinner. Maybe we can meet sometime this weekend?” I offered, trying to maintain some sort of power. “I’ll email you in the next few days and let you know.” He came over to my side of the bed, leaned over and kissed me passionately, utilizing the beautiful and full lips that he was blessed with. Naturally I began to lay myself down in hopes that he would follow me, and as I realized his was he climbed back on top of me and broke away from our kiss, he offered no more words, just the warmth of his mouth on my earlobe, the warmth of his mouth on my neck. I tilted my head upward, because I wanted him to moisten every last inch of this erogenous zone, I wanted him to leave me with a feeling that would stay with me longer after he was gone. “I better get going..” He looked me into my eyes just as he did the day we met. Something about him was very dark, a mystery. We said our goodbyes and he left my room. I closed my eyes to go to sleep, but I couldn’t. I didn’t all night.

I thought about the times I laid in bed with those who were practically strangers. Thought about how we had just committed an act of love, mixing what was supposed to be an act of trust and compassion. At the end of each and every session, I wondered if what we had just practiced was indeed truth. I’d always have the desire to ask, “Can I trust you?”, but my smarter side always knew the answer. I suppose that we are all built with the common sense of worth. We are worthy of love, we are worthy of respect. But each time we are dealt with the cards of heartbreak we become like wounded children, that was me. A wounded child in the body of a 33 year pharmaceutical sales VP. A woman of power, I had the opportunity to take down dozens of people who crossed me, my power of persuasion in my professional life was ruthless, but a recent conversation with Landis proved to me that romantically, I didn’t know what I was doing…


October gloom

Something woke me up this morning.

It was the need to put on some comfortable clothing and go for a walk out in the fall air, to not listen to any music or take along a friend, it was to just spend some time with myself. Once I started on my trail, I was hit with an epiphany. For months now I have felt completely unraveled underneath my skin, my thoughts were consuming/almost obsessive. I’ve had this hunger to change myself and things around me, wanting everything to match the pace that I was moving in. But then, it hit me. I need to be silent. Not only verbally, but mentally as well. I am taking a vow to not speak to anyone via social media or phone/text for 5 days, just so that I can re-arrange my feelings and put my life/thoughts in order. Only communication I will have is indirect, which is my blog.

I know that it seems extreme, but there is a lot of power behind silence. When I speak my words, they are basically my way of exposing myself. That self-imposed subjection is even more difficult for a person like me, I am hot or cold, black or white, so when I share it means that I have allowed myself to show weakness, that can be like an amusement park to hurt for some people who are hurt themselves.

Hopefully I will find some peace. Hopefully peace will find me…and if any of my relationships are real they will shine bright enough that I can walk to them after 5 days of darkness.


Just once, if you could…
breathe wholeness into my soul
to help fill the holes
where your promises seem to fall through..


Soothe that voice that tells me to run astray;
that I can’t stay
or else I’d be yet another one of your opportunities
to chase love away.



Freestyle Poetry- A Lovesong Written By A Demon

I’ve forgotten what lips I’ve kissed,
and where, and why.
I know nothing of their heartbeats,
their intentions, or woes.
I am simply lost in you and its anomaly
what makes of your frame and frame of
mind, I draw an answer of ___________
when you are around.
No amount of excitement is fearless,
I’ve kicked through lives that range from the beginnings of
disconsolate and hollow nights alone, to
days filled with overstuffed emotions and passion that has
flown into rage from the wounded hearts I’ve sacrificed
to comfort my soul
Only remembering what was a vague sense of my
interior self,
I see only my heart possessed by a reformed demon, trying
to experiment in love in hopes to redeem its way
back into a purer place, he sits heavily with positivity in mind,
and as I try to exorcise myself back to life,
he says to quit trying to escape him, that he believes in me.

Writing into the walls of my heart-

It matters not that I’ve forgotten what lips I’ve kissed,
and where, and why.
and that I know nothing of their heartbeats,
their intentions, or woes.

Because now, all I can remember is love.

For a teen’s impulsive, unthinkable act, Cyntoia Brown got an adult’s life sentence. Was justice served? Life Begins at Sixteen

This story really breaks my heart. Cyntoia is one of many, many young girls who have developed some sort of developmental problem due to sexual abuse.

Cyntoia Brown Life begins at 16



by Brantley Hargrove

Cyntoia Brown could bea gifted litigator, professor Preston Shipp thought, as he discussed the moving parts of the criminal justice system with his 30 students. Inquisitive, engaged, able to parse a legal principle and trace its lineage, the 21-year-old Brown was unlike anyone he’d ever taught.
It wasn’t just that she wrung every nugget of knowledge she could from her professor. It was her active, searching mind. Whenever Shipp played devil’s advocate supporting the prevailing model of mass incarceration, Cyntoia was the one student he could count on to pick holes in his argument. That set her apart from his students at Lipscomb University, undergrads whose attendance at chapel and Bible study is mandatory.
But there was another reason Cyntoia was different. Unlike his Lipscomb students, whose futures were limitless, Shipp knew she would never become a litigator. That’s because the class…

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Sharing One Of My Favorites: “I Am Not Yours”- Sara Teasdale

One of the reasons that I love poetry so much is because when you are going through something then it does not matter how old or how subliminal the message in a poem could be, you will still relate 100% to what it is saying.

This poem speaks to me, and for me…in many ways.

I Am Not Yours

by Sara Teasdale
I am not yours, not lost in you,
Not lost, although I long to be
Lost as a candle lit at noon,
Lost as a snowflake in the sea.

You love me, and I find you still
A spirit beautiful and bright,
Yet I am I, who long to be
Lost as a light is lost in light.

Oh plunge me deep in love—put out
My senses, leave me deaf and blind,
Swept by the tempest of your love,
A taper in a rushing wind.


One day, I hope to speak to you, and for you- when you can’t find the words.





Reason had hid his head in the sand.
Troublesome was the life he had led
Consequence from disobedience finally caught him by the leg.

Distressed by the punishment of silence
The inability to walk forward
He was like a lion walking backwards
He was the wounded king.
He tried to regurgitate his failure
If only he could escape his decisions
If only he could escape.