The devil is a woman in
A black dress, backless, looking spineless
Chain smoking loosely rolled cigarettes as if
It is a kindness, exhaling ash, each word
Biting your lobe, voracious, transparent attempts to
Rile you up, make the atmosphere boil
The rough shape of her jaw making
You stick to your clothes, forcing eyelids shut
Imagining an easier death, lilies on graves, sunnier
Days, admitting defeat – you know she loves best with her
Throat exposed

3AM Thoughts // AKA “I Teach Her of Passion From The Tip Of My Tongue.”