In a stranger’s bed, she finds warmth

Yet she still feels cold.

Her body a temple for the devil

To carve his initials.

Tear-stained pillows and ***-soaked sheets

Became the cornerstone of her identity.  

As the Devil continues his invade.

In a stranger’s bed, she finds acceptance,

Yet she still feels rejection.

Her mind a playground for the Devil’s adversaries

To take her heart.


Yet she cherishes those mornings

As if they were her last.