Letters Antoine

Letters to my imaginary friend Antoine, a sort of a journal

Dearest Antoine,
Such a long time,
 I"m sorry for the lapse.
 I've been in a faraway place.

A lost place,
of sighing,
and crying,
and hiding,

from the truth,
from abuse,
given to me,
freely,

from,
someone,
who's lips,
kissed,

so full of passion,
and urgency,
I couldn't see,
the inside of me,

there,
I didn't dare,
runaway,

but hid instead,
from broken doors,
and crushed floors,
from being more.

It was confusing,
this using,
this abusing,

I wasn't ready,
couldn't hold steady,
in his love,
we weren't enough,
for each other,

Anger smothered,
the tenderness,
a huge mess,

of bruises,
and spit,
and "f" words,
and sh__.

Unlocked,
overcocked,
loaded scourge,
exploding urge,

curled into a corner,
not normal,
but adjusted,
then lusted,

for again,
no friends,
allowed,
I didn't know how,

to return,
to relearn,

my voice,
my choice,

But I found,
 it,
And was astounded,

To find,
still intact,
what I lacked,

And I"m healing,
A little more each day.

Your recovering friend,
Lacia

Author's Note

I use the name Lacia for these letters.