Blasphemy was on her breath while her lips felt like religion, blessing me with a curse, leaving the scent of cigarettes and sin on my neck. Her eyes mastered the art of manipulation and bad love. The ego her demons sculpted was as tragic as it was flawless, her heart once held purity and youth. But desertion and City lights slipped into her body, mind, and soul. She drowned her childhood away, but her bruised throat and the ice in her vanity drawer kept her alive. She sought out god but found herself slow dancing with the devil. Maybe one day she will liberate the hell she can't live without, and connect with the heaven she lives without.
©toxicity
T