By Anastasia Burton
The devil has many faces,
Beautiful, and ugly faces,
My devil was an evil bitch,
Some might even say she was a witch,
But most importantly she was my woman.
She was a nasty drunk, the violent sort.
She was the devil in disguise as my beloved with the dark eyes,
Jet black bob hair, skin white like paper.
Tongue so sharp it would cut through leather,
She smoked like a hag, Marlborough red with the thick lines.
I still think about her now,
Sitting by the window smoking her cigarette,
She would turn to me with a lazy grin, breathing smoke straight to my face.
Kissing her was like kissing the gates of hell,
Warm and delightfully bitter, with promise of a broken heart and eternity of glitter.