Not sure if it’s the time change or because things have changed

I turned the air conditioner on 69 because I keep

waking up in hot sweats.

Losing the battle over who my mind should be on

Trying to remain controlled, though my mind is on

like a light switch spasming from faulty

electricity. Its not fair that you get to sleep

through the night,

When I am the one who has been disrespected.

But I try to keep my thoughts blank, because

thinking about the unfairness causes my mind to

blank, anger rushes out of me like it were running
late, no real refrained composure, my heart

shakes in my chest feeling like compulsions, when

is it appropriate to lose control? Mourning my

time like it was a child of mine, wanting it back

because it feels like everything else has declined

around me, losing you I thought to be a tragedy

until i looked at everything in clarity, so many

chances I’ve given you to love me- something I

thought to be so special because others seemed

too lazy, you were just a really bad actress and it
kills me, how I waited out your performance

because I thought you were improving, now I’m

back uncomfortable with my back, head, and

heart hurting. You’re going to regret everything

you’ve ever done to me, of this I’m sure. When it

really hits you, its over this time for good.


No More Love Poems.

Funny how we always end up here.

I fight the feeling to write about you, another sappy poem

about this love and lusting..nope. Not until

I check out your stuff and make sure that you are

writing about me too.

you’re not.

I’m always right, because I already knew that

and it isn’t right, but who am I..right? Just the

next name on your list of perpetrators, I suppose

that you are waiting for me to hurt you too, except my

hurt would consist of not accepting you while you drag

me down with you, my stability is always shaky now, but why?

who cares, though–because your easily concocted answer will

always be “well I didn’t ask you to”. True.

what the fuck am I doing?

I’m scratching my head in confusion,

is it my mind I’m losing?

My optimism escaping me.

I love you.

Do you even want me to?

maybe this is what Karma couldn’t wait to show me

My old chicks voices in my head saying

“one day Kymmie, your games will leave you lonely.”

Exactly where I am headed now, and that’s okay but my

heart won’t let me go in peace.

My questions wake me up at night, hoping that maybe you’d

give me some sort of recognition, maybe something saying

“You know I wouldn’t want to lose this.”

but that will never happen, because you’re too busy writing about your exes

checking your text messages

complaining about the date and time we had a conversation

On instragram straight flexin’ (lol)

Damn, girl, you are giving me no choice but to keep stepping

and trust me, that’d be something to lose..

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…

Glasses Underneath A Rainbow

How would I know?
That touching your rainbow would leave me one million questions unanswered.
Your moaning leads me to mental wandering through nights of cold feet
and sleepless rants.
What was once a simple sexual act of power over their being
has become a power over me; you touching yourself looks
like a lovely heaven lying in view….
Translating to me that I should turn my blood that is usually
chilled like the Atlantic ocean  into a burning desire that matches
the look in your eyes when I am down below…

Sex With You.

You tell me that you masturbated last night after you left me.
I believed it, because I could see you hiding your face through our text messaging.


I could have looked at it as you teasing me, but it made me think about the power of touching. You placed your hands into
your pants and allowed yourself that moment of temporary vulnerability. You were safe in your own mind.


I am sure that you had made yourself come and I wanted to ask you to be sure, because I was envious of the
power that the mind had over you, I need to know its secret.


But I kept that question to myself because I have learned of your discomfort with my inquisitive nature, and it would also expose
my plan to take that power and use it for what you’d think was against you.


It’d probably take me licking your special place 1000 times, or using my fingers to stimulate the soft spot between your legs until the day came and gone like life tends to, just so I can place your trust on a bed of roses, and get you to open up to me without culpability.


Early morning I wake up with your smell on my hands, your taste in my mouth, and your strenuousness nature on my mind.
First you turn me on and then you turn me down, turn to me and tell me to touch you and then turn me away when


I ask you “what’s on your mind?” and you respond with “nothing” kiss me for so long that my mind turns mushy, you sit on top of me and bite my bottom lip, looks like you have won this battle once again, you know exactly what this does to me.


Sex has become the language that we speak, the dialog that we share. You take it away and I feel silenced, causing me to lash out for my freedom. You tell me that that’s okay, that you accept me. I stare on and tell myself that it was dysfunction,
And that was what you accepted, much like a child who loved their molester unconditionally. You give it to me and I get enthralled with the opportunity, surely this time it means you want me, you fuck me because you love me, you moan because


you’re ready to tell me your secrets, you say my name because it’s the only name you want to think of, I get close to coming just thinking of all of the possibilities, maybe this time I am right, maybe next time I’ll get to see it. Maybe.


I route my eyes to match yours, and find you looking at me first, but then you immediately look away. That tells me more than I’d like to know, because it reads like words spoken from someone with Tourettes Syndrome, short and unbecoming.


I ignore it because I know for sure that I am misreading you, just like you want me to. But one day I will get you, and when I do…


You will come from my fingers, my voice, and my love only.

Abandoned Queendom-Spoken Word In Print


She wanted to be respected, but her definition had been infected by the very same men that she’d expect to protect her. She speaks that one day she’d like to make changes, but that want for change never changes into a reality and the reality is it doesn’t have to, what the world requires from her is exactly what she is giving to them, making sure her body measurements are the right size and that she isn’t in the right frame of mind, to be desired is required but teaching her daughter the fundamentals of life as the best created from womb, the woman, seems to fall down low on the to-do list, but that doesn’t have anything to do with her as she is only one woman, who creates one more life and one more opportunity if only she knew how much she could make history, if she only knew how much our culture needed creativity, how we could paint a change on this black stain of cultural mediocrity, starting from the actions of herself, going way beyond natural hairstyles and birthing Black children and doing whatever is necessary to obtain financial wealth, we all pay the price one way or another, and maybe one day or another…the woman will recognize we will always rule as crowned queen, one day.