you're the devil.

i know it.

and don't care.

i'm not some innocent damsel
with no heat of her own.

bring your fire dance;
i'll keep time.


  1. You know wrong.

    I am no devil.

    Beelzebub is my plaything.

    He shivers.

    I wrap him in fine cloth.

    Spawned from the fabric of his nightmares.

    Damsel sans innocence;

    my fire dance rots the soul.

    Bring your "heat";

    that I may cool my sanguine beverage.

    You will keep time alright.

    Charnel time.

    PS: love your writing. Just doing some sillly morbid stuff here.

  2. my apologies.

    but you should know:
    burning me will bring no satisfaction
    unless you happen to love
    the sensation of
    fresh, hot caramel dripping from your lips...

    whatever your name, demon,
    you cannot spoil me,
    only refine my sweetness.


    {...i love a call & response. thanks for reading.}