The devil wears a blue plaid cut-off.
Kissing like forbidden fruit, dripping with danger.
He drags you into fire and sin,
Makes you beg on your knees, praying to God for mercy.
His hands are promises you shouldn’t trust,
His words a poison that tastes like honey.
He whispers lust and calls it love,
Every look a chain, every touch a trap.
The devil wears a blue plaid cut-off.
Lips like nectar, eyes like a storm.
He makes you crave what will destroy you,
Gluttonous for a darkness you can’t escape.
Your heart races, your pulse screams,
And you find yourself wanting him, needing him, fearing him
All at once.
The devil wears a blue plaid cut-off.
And now I’m on my knees, broken, shaking,
Praying to God to heal the scars he carved into me.
The marks run deep, inside and out,
But even as I tremble, even as I burn,
I feel the pull, the hunger, the craving for sin,
Haunting, relentless, consuming.
And yet…
In the fire, I see the truth.
You are not the devil.
You are not destruction.
You are a storm that teaches me, a fire that ignites me,
A passion that shakes me to my core.
You are light. You are fierce.
The greatest angel I’ve ever met.
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