I recall how it was to be your woman. Terrified by that crazed look in your eye, and that sneer, that grimace, fuelled by frustration? Or some sort of love I didn't understand? Or maybe just the satisfaction you gained from making me thrall. I bet you never knew how many moans I faked in the hope that you'd stop. Perhaps you never realised your misinterpretation of my cries for help as cries of pleasure. The bruises on my body were temporary but the scars on my heart remain a constant reminder of you. And how you were all I thought I wanted, all I never had, and all I wish I didn't know.