Once I told a demon
he was an angel.
He worshiped me.

He frothed at the mouth when I said I was French,
as I razored his wings
and kissed him.

I chiseled his fangs,
I painted him gold and white.
He, tied to my chair,
uttered in gutteral tones
"I was his delight"

Did I say his wings became wings?

He went from dangerous to mine,
his wings
I shaped into a twinheart.

His flame is mine,
I am his flame.

I licked his wounds,

as a best friend would do.

Love saw deep into his heart,
I cannot tame the beast,
unless the man wants to be free.




.

If the demon loves another .. he will never be tamed .. ladywind

owning ur demon is one way to be free & the same time its a toxic cuz at the end u might end up blaming oneself...i guess

Nice poem .

Psst...I have grown to much to retain that profile anymore...