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Rated: 13+ · Poetry · Emotional · #2029335
Demon, indiguise. perfectly, imperfect.
Why?

Your name use to be my favorite word,
but now it burns my throat more, and more, with every syllable.

Your face, is forever engraved into the back of my mind,
I just can’t seem to make it disappear.

Your touch, held me together when I was falling apart,
and now it’s the cause of every pounding headache and bruise.

Your voice, when you whispered sweet-nothings into my ear, gave me a tiny glimpse of heaven, but now it resembles shrieking fingernails on a chalkboard.

You affected me in ways that are still indescribable,
yet not a day goes by I don’t torture myself with the thought of you.

An angel sent from the depths of hell,
beautiful, with cynical intentions.

Perfectly imperfect,
A demon in disguise.

You had me fooled,
and out of every distraught question,
there’s one that still remains,
one that causes my mind to race,
one that is almost impossible to contain;

Why hurt me, when I would never hurt you?


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