He was so strong and aggressive.
Would pick me up, throw me around,
Like I weighed next to nothing.
He liked to write letters.
Sometimes they came in the mail.
Mostly, they were placed
Somewhere he knew I'd find them.
Left with a tip.
Or in my coat pocket.
Laying on the seat or dash.
Of my still locked car.
I kept them,
Handed them over to the police.
There was so little they could do.
So much he still could.
Even after the restraining order.
If only he had physically harmed me.
This is how a monster writes:
Emily,
First off, I don't want you wearing that dress you bought yesterday for anyone but me. It reveals too much skin, and I don't like the thought of other guys eye-fucking what's mine.
I saw you at the dock, why did you leave when you saw me? Are you afraid of me? I would never do anything to hurt you; apart from what we both know you want me to do. I can't wait to see how uppity you think you are after I beat your slutty ass with my belt until you beg me never to stop.
By the way, I was instantly hard when I called her a little slut and a fucking cock tease and you didn't so much as react.
Let me tell you, I slipped my hand into my pocket and began to rub the head of my cock as I followed you out of the store and through the mall. You took a long time deciding, and even longer changing. I thought about visiting you in that changing room. I figured your pussy was wet all day knowing I was following you, so eventually I went out to my truck and stroked my cock while I waited for you to finish up.
I've been thinking about how close we'll soon be.
You have to promise you’ll scream loud for me when I finally get you alone.
'Like a circle in a spiral
Like a wheel within a wheel
Never ending or beginning
On an ever-spinning reel'
~Bergman, Legrand
