Pamela Williams is originally from London, England. Firmly ensconced in the heartland, she calls Kansas City home. When she is not creatively expressing art through words, she is designing unique, artistic, perfectly imperfect leather handbags, helping women express their true personalities and honor their survivor stories. She has numerous appearances showcasing her creations on local TV highlighting imperfection is beautiful. Her loves persist; rogue, grape mommy juice, husband, son, and canine children. She has completed her memoir which will be available the first week in May 2020.
How Do You Find Love After Divorce?
“Signs Are All Around.”
A reckless, lustful, passionate night produced peripeteia. Scars from a wounded soul leave us in this precarious position. They ruin my life, along with a chance of finding love again - heartbreak stings the soul.
The iPhone has emerged technology ascends while my life descends.
How could I ever love again after this betrayal? He promised me forever.
The white-picket fence I’d dreamed of now lays in tatters, discarded like a piece of rubbish by the curb in tandem with my emotions.
Doctor put me on bed rest this morning before he walked out tonight 10 weeks before our baby's arrival. A single mother alone in a foreign land now dealing with pre-eclampsia in this Arizona sun sizzling this dust bowl we call home.
The twilight holds me now as I stare from my king-size prison into the gloom cove created by the master bathroom, en-suite toilet and closet. How did it come to this? I replay his exit like a movie reel.
He wouldn’t leave, he just wouldn’t leave. His failure to leave summoned my go-to mask of anger. Chaos. Amongst the verbal sparring and finger pointing.
He decided, but remained in my face as I gripped the glass tight in denial. We locked eyes as I looked into his emotionless abyss I became lost in mine. Each excuse-riddled syllable Warren uttered, my fingers squeezed tighter around as one. His hasty stutter awakened my inner power before he broke me.
“What are you gonna do with that glass!?”
Fear of the unknown grips and I offer Warren a chance to halt his hasty mistake.
“Warren — be sure this is what you want because if you walk out that door, I’m never letting you back in.”
Warren hesitates and slows his pace before he resumes towards the door. He opens sluggishly and steps out into the night, guided by the resplendent moon overhead without a glance back.
Who will love me now? Who will love us now?