to you myfriend, for giving me understanding in you and who you are. your life does not define who you are.

Deborah communication
A whore’s loneliness


Scared alone at sixteen this was my lesson, as it was the beginning of an act, at seventeen I knew how to move, to moan to pretend to please, and at nineteen I gave and did it as though it was my last,

An so it began, a life of none pleasure, of no thought, an of sin,

Every thought every word was an insult, to this I was a seeker, I kissed his soul as he stole mine, my womanhood was imprisoned by a mans, manhood as it crept into the embodiment of my life,

so I smiled at his provocative words for a dollar, each one he tossed made me give more,

I made promises that I was not able to keep, to each one, they bowed down to what I was, the scent of my essences was a memory that they carried each moment , each minute, and with every second of this I was the communicator in it all,

They ate my bullshit with a badge of honor, all attitude, was my behavior disorder

Fringe benefit I called me,

A knock on my door with the insisting of pleasure, as each passed through my world I ran a prelude to hunger, need that awoke me every time,

I sought it, hoped for it, but as time went a thought of marriage was a echoed word that frighten me, adore yes, love yes, forever no,

They please me some of the time, but as it is, an will be, I am complicated,

A moment of truth, I cry alone, as for my heart, my life, my bed is my doom,

A struggle that lies within,