Pink Lattes and A Slice of Poundcake

Determined to be free and live authentically. Writing the way and penning the path. Others want to silence the voice and the words. But pushing through the door and breaking down the walls. Never going to stop reaching up and higher. Breaking chains that bind and hold. Speaking a truth through keys and screens.

More constant than a friend Satisfying like no other These cherished tomes set on tables and chairs Ever present to journey and escape Intimate treasure and forever companion Poetic affair to last the years Sitting waiting open to that favorite spot Giving living breathing being Forever admired and deeply experienced These present lovers in black and white

The journey of life has not been an easy one for Myla.   She knew there was something different about her, about her life, but could never understand the sheer impact of all that she had endured until she stepped out on that stage. "Hello, my name is Myla and I am a survivor." The crowd roared into claps before they even heard her raspy voice speak the words and read the passages of her book.  This was her first tour, her first speaking engagement, her first opportunity to take back her power. "My story is in some ways not unlike the story of many women, many of you sitting in this room right now.  I was born to parents who loved each other and subsequently loved me, their baby girl. I was raised in the praise of their affirmation of my brains and beauty, taught to be tender and caring, to be loving and kind, to believe in the best in all people, and to strive for my dreams.  I was taught of my virtue and my worth and to pursue my education.  My father

It is funny to me How people always want to know "how long has this been going on?" When it has been happening right in front of them. Are you paying attention? Listening? Can't you see the downcast of the eyes? The quiet in the answer? The uncertainty in the thought? Why does it matter how long? The very fact that it has been happening should make them want to help do something help do not just sit there and say "I just can not believe he would do that." When the things she says are stranger than fiction yes, he did not, he is doing that, he is that

not the housekeeper or maid or the caricature drawn of me never will be ever gonna be the slave you want of me cleaning your floors washing your walls seeing your dirt know more than you think wiser than you assume deeper than your fears built this house you try to take greater than the crumbs wipe that table clean not your house slave greater character than you will ever be

Twenty bags of chips in the trash can Shiny vacant promises in silver lined packages Crumbs in the bed sound of the crunch Tasting any of it munch munch munch Disarray uncontrol stuffing mouth Twenty bags of chips in the trash can