The Secret Letter

M: Leave me and MY husband alone!!!!?!!!!

I: I left you alone about two and a half years ago.

I’ve never sent you pictures of my son or me.

I’ve never talked to your friends, just to your husband’s

ex and mother of 2 of his children.

If she’s your friend—that’s really none of my business!

M: You leave us alooooone…..

(I don’t know if you realize how ridiculous you sound! HA!)

I: I’m serious, I don’t want anything to do with y’all.

Have the life you deserve!

M: But you…. Your friend who texted me with your pathetic

story, your blog, the picture… and the fake profiles…

I: Fuck, you really don’t understand.

I know your husband’s games, I do.

I know exactly how big his dick is and what he likes

to do in bed, and more… I still have pictures of it

somewhere, if I ever find them I’ll delete your property 😉

And he, I hope has deleted the hundreds of pictures

he took of me, mostly without my consent…

I know he’s good at manipulation, cheating, his

narcissism is out of control.

I know he doesn’t like to pay the checks in restaurants

and for his drinks

(maybe with you he does/did for a while. I don’t care!)

I know what happens when he’s angry…

Have you seen his rage at least once?

He used to say he had never treated any

other woman this way,

that I fully deserved his shouting, aggression…

I know what happens when you say “No” to him…

I know, I still have the pictures of the aftermath bruises…

No, not the ones I wanted, if you know what I mean.

I know he’s a sweet talker, can persuade you to buy…

all of his lies.

I know all of his stories with always changing fragments

and ends, told many times despite my begging of him to stop.

I was with him for a year and a half, 6 months of my pregnancy

was hard and spent in pain, emotional and physical,

with him, because of him.

He’s been to my country, to my parents’ house.

He’s met my sisters, my grandma, my cats.

We went to Greece together, he texted you from there maybe?!

He kicked me out of our small vacation apartment, pregnant, because

I wanted to stay home and read a book. He said

I didn’t have the right to… then he hit me. I waited

for 8 hours at a bus station to take the bus back.

You don’t care? I thought so.

His small children liked me, his son said he loved me.

And now my own son says he loves me and is

the light of my life. JFYI

Do we even have to communicate (please let’s not),

if I ever decide to sue him for child support… You wonder

why I haven’t? Just read all this here.

Imagine you had a few months old baby (which you have now,

it seems we still have some acquaintances in common

who inform me once or twice a year,

want it or not, they spill the beans)

and you find out the man who left you pregnant for

another woman (you), who promised to help

with the baby (he changed his mind because he

“couldn’t talk to this crazy woman who doesn’t like his choice for a crib”

he was never going to see that crib either way,

that was his last lame excuse to stop the communication,

and for the best! Oh, let’s not forget he didn’t pay

for my medical tests and anything to do with my pregnancy,

the money I had given him to pay- he spent them on…you)

what he keeps doing, charming the ladies out there,

working for yet another baby which was his obsession

and what got him off as far as I remember.

Maybe for you it’s justified and morally acceptable what he did.

But you’ve heard only his side of the story,

although I tried to warn you but it was too late for you…

Just the way I had heard only his side of the story

when he told me how he left, U for another woman,

yeah, he sounded like and wanted to be seen as the victim.

They were like a brother and sister in their relationship,

sexless for months, years (with a baby your baby’s age

and a toddler), she was messy, he couldn’t stand that.

Oh, he fell in love with a beautiful woman, they fucked

like rabbits. Then she fucked him and left him for another man.

Ha ha ha ha!

The same about his oldest daughter’s mother— of course

she had cheated him into it and getting her pregnant

wasn’t his fault at all (he had the nerve to tell my

parents the same thing about me), he intended to tell

his daughter she was a mistake— he sounded so innocent

when telling me the story again and again—he was

the good daddy who took care of his little daughter

and the bitch-mother only kept changing rich husbands.

I remember many of his stories. One about date rape.

No kidding! Oh, but you’ve heard them all,

after 3 years together…

It’s my blog and I can write whatever I want.

I never read your blog and I never do google searches for you two.

I found a better picture for you know what.

I don’t want to talk to him or anything to do with him.

Yet I’m still the mother of a child and your husband

has a lot to do with that. I’m definitely not bragging

about it, ever.

When strangers on the street ask me why my son

doesn’t look like me,

I have to be reminded, want it or not but I’m so very

used to it now. I won’t bore you with the details,

how my son feels about… what he can see he doesn’t have.

It’s my fault, too, that I was with your now-husband.

It takes a great deal of self-destructive tendencies.

You deserve what you got. I’m glad he’s not in my life,

I can’t stress it enough how glad I am.

I’ve told this story to many people- you dodged a bullet

is the usual, obvious reaction, except the psychopaths,

they like what your hubby does! LOL

My life might not be easy now but it’s been worse,

you know when and with who?! Yes.

Let’s stop this.

I know it wasn’t you, M, who wrote that last message

to my friend. She had good intentions. I haven’t asked her

to contact you because I know you’re helpless.

I know the style and the methods somebody

we both know uses. I know! And I don’t care.

I just have some time today and I like to write,

so why not leave a little note here.

You’re just a letter now, and I feel sorry for you.

I feel sorry for myself when I was still trapped by him.

Let’s leave it like this and remember, you don’t have to

read my blog or my Quora answers, none of them concerns you,

even the one I wrote about you, without knowing you

is about my feelings, it’s about me (I got the reference

in your message, thanks, but please stop reading

because you’ll never like what I write and I don’t need you

to appreciate me) (I write this here and not on Quora

because nobody will read it in comparison,

I’m too ashamed of having been with someone like your husband,

although I’ve written a few answers about him there—

he should be flattered *wink*).

I have no intention to talk to you or your husband any time soon,

more likely—never.

M: Shit. I’ve fucked up my life sooo bad *sob*

I: I know, it’s never too late to fix it. Seek help.

Learn some healthy boundaries, that’s a start when still with him.

Read about narcissism. Good luck.

PS: I’m sure there are some good women’s shelters

in Belgium, just check them out, for the bad times

coming ahead.

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I don’t write poetry anymore. I just can’t… hear it

… but I decided to share what I wrote on Quora. I think I liked my life more before I started writing there. Well, I’m mostly reading what other people wrote, I don’t have the audacity to write more than once a week. I abandoned my favorite poets here and I feel bad about this. I used to have time for books and I never worried about my poems not being seen by many people.

I go to the places we once visited together. I sit on the bench, under the tall oak trees and I wait. When your words come, they’ve traveled through the years, walked between other people we loved and let go, like the seasons hurt when they last too long. We betrayed them when we chanted the same notes to each other, using the timber that didn’t belong to us. I know when you miss me, it’s when I need you to miss me, so that I can have you back just for a moment some days. When missing you becomes louder than the physical world’s sounds. It’s my kind of silence.

I know you will go to sit on that bench again, the way I recognize we were pawns in the game we both lost, and I know you. Just tell the oak trees, and me who was waiting for you just a second ago, exactly what I’m writing here now. That you are nostalgic.

Our indirect communication has come full circle. If I wanted you to hear me saying it, I have you number, darling.

I miss you.

How do you tell a person that you miss him/her without saying it? by Irina Aleksandrova https://www.quora.com/How-do-you-tell-a-person-that-you-miss-him-her-without-saying-it/answer/Irina-Aleksandrova?share=91afa64d&srid=3dOoG

Poem 33

Like a dying hive, I cracked from inside out
In this neighborhood, with its horizon soiled
Fuming noise, sheared by streets, buried in that whore
Globe, round and sound, encircled in its atmosphere
Out of my reach, it’s dark over here
Some linen feeling lurks, escapes mouth in liquid murk
As the theme inside becomes a ring, only when I’m sober

I’m here for you

Our house is brimming with motion
With endless stairs that run all ways and see
We do not sleep, the murmur is slick
It goes deeply to the core, satiated, inside our moist bones
When little feet thump behind walls
Chamber echoes summon rumours
We fight the night, don’t need the mock of light
Who keeps intact the walloping swing of swings
Of walking anger, covering the sense of danger

Irina Aleksandrova shared an answer on Quora with you

How do narcissists feel about the people who love them? by Elinor Greenberg https://www.quora.com/How-do-narcissists-feel-about-the-people-who-love-them/answer/Elinor-Greenberg?share=7436eae5&srid=3dOoG

Hello everyone,

I’ve been obsessed with Quora for a few months now. When I feel like writing poetry again I will come back. I’m sharing this link because I find it useful and it could’ve saved me a lot of time and trouble, as obvious as it sounds. People change our lives for better or worse, in my case it was for better. Thank you, not for who you were to me but for what you gave me and can’t and won’t take back.

Irina

Submission #2

I will go to the lowest low
For you, it’s how you made me
Your words moulded and hardened
A true, self-harming, promiscuous
Thing, out of the respectable
Once trusted between the superiors
I’ve lost their count since then
Why you, it started slowly, you crawled under
My feet, anticipating to destroy the one in power
It was allowed back then, just to enjoy me
In pools of water and the hottest, driest of all cathedrals
Here, inside my body, you laid something
Which made a difference in the heavens
For every single word you gave me
You were repaid its weight in licks of my whip

Poem 32: A cry

A cry out of humiliation escaped
This filled with scattered halves land
It turns out, I do have a cunning mind
Deliciously wrapped in a blurry, suicidal thought
No, it’s one part simple bravery, and two parts
Fear of a traitor, before the firing squad
And then you take me back for a last short trip
Was his pain louder than mine
I ask when I’m shaking, suffering
I couldn’t move my fingers for a while
With his face being dream-kissed
I felt his fingers in my mouth
And then another kiss
I couldn’t move to stop it, a rare
Day, tainted with a residual of his dark spell
I crossed such loveless, empty phase
But only now I understand
My love is not cold steel- a work in progress
Transcending in a quiet knock of time

Congrats with the wedding

You want me to tell my son the truth

About his father, how he left me pregnant

With his child, to go and marry another woman

How he never asked a single question about his boy

Why would he, he had three more, now four

I fucked up by choosing him and he made

My life hell, is there a revenge sweeter

Than the sweet, dear boy, untroubled

Untouched by this evil, his eyes full of joy!

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