Open Letter to ‘That MF’- Uncut

Open Letter To That MF

To my dearest love that handed me a collection of tears and passionate screams that wrapped me around your phallus instead of your heart, and broke me down to the morsel of my soul. Yes to you my dearest companion who used his smile and charm to draw me into a friendship that allowed me to trust you with all that I have including my body. O my darling that gave me strokes of luck, love, fun, and bravery, that led my body to rid me of my chance of lineage and you didn’t even give a shit. To you my dearest mother fucker you are the scum that women over generations warned me about and I still chose to prove them wrong.

You walked into my life as a prideful phallus that gave me life through the core of what makes me a woman.  When I looked into your eyes I swear I saw the universe and believed you could create mine. Any part of you that touched me created redemption of my wrecked body and spirit. My mind was no longer my own nor was my life. I handed it all to you because you promised me  the world through every kiss, gift, and look in your eyes. With the world in front of me how could I possibly have known that you were an enigma sent to break me.

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When you thrashed into my core I felt more and more pieces of me come to life. But that was all taken away one by one when you shared your cum dripped shaft with this one, that one, and the ‘so called’ best friend. You lured me into a meticulously planned trance of love that left me with PTSD by the end of each day.  You allowed me to think less of myself so that I could serve you; yet simultaneously encouraged me to strive for my dreams then shut them down.

I had to force myself to become many different women just to survive looking in your eyes. I was the woman who cooked your food, gave you counsel, defended and praised all of your actions; even smiled at you when trying to ignore the foul run-through cunt smell on your dick! You promised me protection from the world and gave me life in my womb that you destroyed by sharing all of yourself with others.  I no longer had an identity that would represent the men and women whose legs I stood on to be a proud successful woman.

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‘ He’s not beating you so he’s a good man’ is what I coached my friends to say to me so I could justify loving you.  When I handed you my life you handed me empty bank accounts, sorry excuses for you actions, and the blood dripping from my wrist to end it all. ‘I need you baby! Don’t leave me! How could you do this?! I love you!” Was all you could say when I tried to rid the world of my presence…but you loved me? You loved me?!

Love does not leave you crying and shaking on the bathroom floor each night trying to drown out the imagined moans of the women you were fucking; whose names you dared to call out in your sleep and whose voices came through the other end of my phone! Only to hear you say ‘I am your king and you are my queen, any other woman is just pussy’ every day. Did you think that made me feel better? Did you think that you were going to walk away with my heart, my dreams, my money and just say that we can be friends. Throwing away all I have done for you because you all of a sudden got tired of me!  O I don’t think so mother fucker!  Let me make something clear. You’re shit is worth more than the air you breathe, because at least it has substance from the hearts you have devoured for your own gain.

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When you finally decided that I was no longer worthy of your ‘love’ all the bitter women with bitter lips swarmed around me with every negative phrase and advice they could think of. The same women that  I ignored because they were single caused from their own bitterness. Even though I felt empowered by their rage, I felt emptiness where my love for you used to be. Then I realized that they too felt that emptiness and filled it with bitterness and rage halting any chance to love themselves or anyone else. I wanted to rip your balls from you and let you live with the pain to prove my power; which was encouraged by the words of love from the bitter women.

But I couldn’t be them. If you taught me anything it was to always make sure that life works for you. So here it is…I love you. I love you for ripping the weakness from my soul. I love you for making me see that I cannot hand out my heart to anyone unless they are exceptional.  I love you for making me see my own beauty instead of handing it over to the eyes of a stranger. Finally I love you for giving me a reason to live…myself.

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Now I don’t want you to be confused. You were merely the catalyst for me to become a risen woman. I don’t want you back in my life in any of the forms I once was. I’m not your whore. I’m not your bitch. I’m not your piece of ass. I am a woman of worth who’s standards are so particular you are not even worthy to walk in my path.  Don’t you dare take credit for who I have become, nothing evil could ever birth something great. You broke me down to the morsel of my soul, yes,  and that was all I needed to grow again.

So to you my dearest Mother Fucker I hope that the Almighty takes pity on your next conquest. I hope she is strong enough to survive your game. You can flaunt her in front of me all you want, but it won’t make me miss you that’s for damn sure. Consider this letter a final kiss that you don’t deserve. Yet I give it to bless my own path and clear you from my soul.  You are free from my love that could’ve protected you from the punishment that is to come for all you have done. O Well… At least I am still standing and ready for love.

–          Signed Your Unconquered Woman

Does anyone have something to say to ‘That MF’?


C.B. Fletcher is a public relations manager that has worked with domestic and international pr campaigns in the entertainment, fashion, hospitality, and literary industry. She continues to pursue independent projects and collaborations for events and growing businesses. As a contributing writer to Breath of Life Daily, Ms.Nix In The Mix, and The Urban Realist she has had the opportunity to feature intriguing and uplifting stories of people from around the country, as well as lend her perspective on risque and complicated subjects. She also has caught the directing bug in her first upcoming documentary about the journey of a woman fighting Mucoepidermoid carcinoma cancer; Some People Are Just (Un)Lucky. C.B. lives in Atlanta, GA and embraces the fulfilling love of her long term relationship and incredible family and friends. For more information on upcoming articles, films, and snippets from her upcoming books please visit