7 Days

7 days
I’m so excited that this novel is finally finished! After years of working on this particular book and having these characters in my head and them waiting for me to patiently tell their story, I’ve finally given them what they wanted (noisy bitches).
 
This book has been a difficult one to write and I wanted it to tell the reality of the pain and scars that domestic violence leaves behind. At times, it’s not pretty to read, but I’ve tried to honestly relate the horrors of abuse.
 
Now onto the long process of editing and then more editing in order to send it away to my publisher! I’m hoping for a release date of early Spring and hope that some of you will be willing to take a chance on it. 
 
****
Because monsters are real…..
They’re still there.
They’ll wait forever.
They know she thinks of them.
They call her name.
 
The monsters hide behind the thin door.
Peeking through the cracks.
The cracks are small.
But the monsters know how easily they splinter.
 
They wait. They are patient.
They know she has her whole life.
They constantly jiggle the knob.
 
****
 
Kate Morgan waits for her mother to return, knowing someday she will. The thought of it fills her with dread and anticipation. She hates and loves her mother, Meg Madison, in equal measures.
 
Kate has been raised by a man who is the only father she has ever known and by a grandmother who will do anything to protect her granddaughter from the evil that she’s fought against her entire life.
 
When Meg finally does return, she has to face her demons and reveal the truth of her family’s history in order to bring her daughter back to her. It only takes seven days to unravel the threads that held their family together.
 
****
*This book is dedicated to the survivors of domestic violence and abuse and to those whose lives were lost in the battles that were waged within their homes. And for mom…the strongest, bravest woman I have ever known.
Other books by Debra Colby:
i heard you amazon
moms eye view
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Final Reflection

From my poetry notebook….This Ain’t Shakespeare.

final reflection

The darkened window, lit only from behind.

Shows a sharp-angled face, etched with anguish-filled lines.

 

As she stares, long suffocated tears begin to flow.

A life built on trust has been crushed in a single, selfish blow.

 

How did she let this happen? Allow her family to be snatched away?

Now all is gone. Even hope that fate would return them one day.

 

She stands, looking unseeingly at the face reflected back.

Her mind sees a young woman whose life was on the right track.

 

The man of her dreams had swept her off her feet.

Promising to love, honor and cherish til’ death they do meet.

 

A child was born, a sweet little boy.

Endless smiles and bliss at this wonderful joy.

 

A home was provided through a business that soared.

A husband who loved her, a child she adored.

 

Another arrived, from out of the blue.

Claiming friendship that was accepted as true.

 

Manipulating and coveting what belonged to another.

That the bond being built was simply a cover.

 

The true motivation was meant to seduce.

Not caring that lives would be shattered, and true love reduced.

 

The other used emotions to bait its catch.

Listening and offering kindness through a rough patch.

 

The catch had been easily tricked by the bait.

More stroking of an ego made it worth the wait.

 

Reeled and then eaten by a prey too fierce.

Unconcerned how the wounds would hurt and pierce.

 

Guilt overcomes, and a confession needs to be made.

Begging forgiveness, making promises, in order to stay.

 

Eyes blink and she sees once again.

The reflection of a woman cast aside for her sins.

Portrait of Lies

From my poetry notebook…This Ain’t Shakespeare.

portrait of lies

Your eyes see a picture of perfection

But buried beneath the beautiful package

Is something outside the truth

 

Secrets, lies and deception

All tumble over one another

In a wildly beating heart

 

A heart panicked

At the thought of discovery

And the inevitable destination

Of a loss of a life

Carefully crafted

 

A smile tricked out at the corners

Speaks of a lover kept secret

 

Eyes gazing into a memory of

Citrusy rooms and paisley bedspreads

Where two bodies writhe in desperate abandon

 

Chasing away lost hopes and daily drudgery

Looking to find a past youth

And forgotten excitement

 

But ends up with guilt weighing heavily

As true love smiles tenderly

From a portrait of perfection

 

Temptation

From my poetry notebook…This Ain’t Shakespeare.

temptation

https://dorinacostras.com/paintings/

Long lashes lowered.

Full lips over a knowing smile.

Flowing tresses that tease with their softness.

Curves that entice with her every move.

Open and willing, flaunting her needs.

Encouraging, suggesting, ignoring his ring.

****

No one will miss it.

It’s just a few dollars.

They have so much.

She has so little.

The children need shoes.

There’s no food in the cupboards and the rent is due.

So easy to slip the money,

From the cash drawer into her pocket.

****

The doctor says no.

Anymore and he’ll die.

But the need is so strong.

The struggle so fierce.

The addiction controls his every move.

****

Temptation is thrown at us from everywhere.

How we respond to it is our choice.

Candle of Beauty

From my poetry notebook…This Ain’t Shakespeare.

candle of beauty

Outer beauty is the flame

Mesmerizing, bright, glowing

Hypnotically drawing us in.

 

But it flickers and wavers

Disappearing like a whisper.

 

Inner beauty is the candle

That gives the flame life.

 

Providing it with strength

To deliver light and warmth

To those within its sphere.

 

To eventually melt

Into a glistening pool.

 

Only to be reshaped and molded.

Back to its original form,

To pass on the flame.

That’s Not Me

depression

I rarely write in depth about my personal life. What I have to say is generally through the words of a poem and the meaning is fairly obvious to those who read it. I don’t mince words and I don’t beat around the bush…I say what the hell is on my mind and the consequences be damn. But I have been struggling for years with a sort of depression that comes from things not having worked out the way I had envisioned. And I know I’m not alone in these kinds of feelings. I truly believe, everyone, at one point or another has suffered through these kinds of feelings. It’s how we deal with them that makes the difference.

When I divorced my second husband, I had in mind that my life would somehow be different, that I would be better off on my own. I didn’t want or need anyone telling me how I should or shouldn’t live my life…to insinuate that my thoughts and feelings were secondary to his. At age 46, I had had enough of that and after fifteen years of marriage to this man, I left my marriage.

I had absolutely no idea what I was supposed to do, how I would afford to take care of myself or if love would ever find me again. I fell into what the doctor’s told me was “low-grade” depression. I was prescribed anti-depressants and although they may have worked, I was uncomfortable taking drugs, so I stopped…which probably wasn’t the smartest move because whatever depression I had been feeling quickly escalated. I moped around, felt like a sloth, drank way too much wine and slept and slept and slept. I was motivated only to go to work (bills still had to paid) and would put on my happy face for my children when they visited (can’t let the kids know what a basket-case Mom was).

stronger

This went on for over two years. Even though I began dating again, I wasn’t able to give myself to the notion of a “true romance.” I fought it and felt undeserving of any sort of kindness he showed me. We never became the sort of relationship I felt I was meant for and we soon broke things off. I fell into an even deeper depression and found myself almost unable to climb out of it. I had failed at my marriage, failed at a potential relationship, I was unable to keep my finances in order, I had cut off most of my family,  and my children  were getting older and didn’t need to rely on me. Who was I, if I wasn’t a mother? A wife? Not even a girlfriend? I was nobody.

I turned inward. I filled journal after journal with crazy scribblings, rants, injustices done to me. Page after page of anger, resentment, built-up words that had gone unsaid. It poured out of me like a mad, raging thunderstorm. Cutting and slicing, the rain beating me down into a drenched mess of emotion.

And it was weird, but writing, for me, was the answer. To write the words, that had for years rolled around inside my head, seemed to give me a sense of relief, of freedom.

I never shared any of this with anyone. Those journals were for me and me only. In fact, I no longer even have them, they were ripped up and thrown into the trash years ago. I no longer needed them, I had said what I needed. Nobody else needed to read it. I doubt they would even understand the torture of feeling useless, unworthy and unneeded.

Depression is real, it makes us forget everything that’s good and beautiful in our lives. It weighs so heavily that at times we feel as though we are being smothered by the sheer enormity of it. Thoughts of suicide constantly flicker and seems like the only answer to find the relief from the black and dark places that fill our minds. It is a heavy weight that begs us to follow it into a murky cesspool.

I cannot say that my dark thoughts have disappeared, they have not, it’s not that simple. What keeps me in the light, is my children and my grandson. How completely selfish would it be of me to forget what I mean to THEM? What kind of suffering would they go through because I had decided that ending my life was the only possible solution?

But, No! I am stronger than that! I want to see my son fall in love and give his heart to another! I want to see my daughter and son-in-law, grow old together! I want to see my grandson grow into a man! These are the things that life is about.

So, I pull myself out of the cesspool and just get on with things.

happyagain

Elusive Success

From my poetry notebook…This Ain’t Shakespeare.

elusive success

Feeling of failure
Constantly plague
Touching with tips
The glory desired
But never grasping
Seeing others move ahead
Efforts are doubled
Trying too hard
Rejection scorches
Discouraged
Confidence diminishes
Frustration overwhelms
Setbacks impede creativity
Unwilling to give up
Tenacious and obstinate
Perseverance and time
Luck and unshakable belief are allies
Success will be found
If faith in ourselves never falters.