There was comfort in loving the devil.
To know that I could solitarily bring purity into his heart alleviated my appetite for danger and purpose.
Trying to tame such a wild heart came with its pernicious repercussions. Playing with fire will undoubtedly burn you, and burn I did.
I gave him my heart, thinking he could change his ways and put away his harlotry, my raw vermilion scars the result of my foolishness.
The Devil is real and he's not some little red man with horns and a tail.
He can be beautiful because he's a fallen angel. He used to be God's favorite.
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