Posted in Blog, Creative Writing, Writing

Conversations With The Devil

The devil said that my body was easy to inhabit,

because I was already riddled and rattling with demons,

out of the habit of trying to save myself, my soul, I looked myself in the mirror and declared another war,

offering myself the dreams I thought I’d lost.

My Mediterranean blood burned through the blue of the British Isles that beat within me,

passion pulsing as my lips long to let the world know that I am ready to be alive again,

stealing kisses from spirits that only ever wanted to wish me well,

and wailing into the waiting wind, just to keep my voice fresh.

I told the devil that I did a good impression of a living human,

and I think that’s why he fell for me,

because everybody loves the fantasy of humanity,

especially when it is escapable.

He slips out, you see, when I sleep.

He does the most dastardly things when I sleep.

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