Warning

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What you are about to read is deceptive.

My work may read like love poetry but it is a heartbreaking compilation about my experience with an abuser.

The only way I could personally cope with the abuse was to daydream about having sex with Him. I thought if we'd just have sex, if He'd just make love to me, the horrific abuse would stop.

This is the jarring, raw and desperate experience of a type of sexual Stockholm Syndrome in poetic form.

Please don't read it if you're under 18 or easily triggered.

[Lowercase and capitalisation of "Him/He/His" intended]

With love,

Mars Saturnia

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