The demon's wife
Looks good
In white
Because she's always made to
Wear black

"Do you want to play a game”?
Said he,
On the verge of deceit

"Is it the one where you pretend to love me?"
Said she
Like a feral cat in heat

The milky sounds of his drunken slurs,
Only prove such love is fake.

With all the layers of paint
To hide the broken face
Yet enough to crack and peel away
To the raw layer of flesh,
Infested, Infected.

My mother did use to say,
"Nothing that fades is ever great".