i think i finally know why they called you lucifer.

it wasn’t just about your dark design and the ink covering your porcelain skin, it was about you as a person. the way you walked, the way you talked. everything.

you told me you were a god and i believed you. i put you on a pedestal and kissed your feet, but honey, you are not a saint.

you have skeletons in your closet that you swear don’t belong to you, but if i were to look closely enough, i would see your dna all over the crime scene.

you’re always on the run, who are you trying to run from? me or all of your problems?

you can wash your hands to clean the blood off, but you can’t wash them off the crime.

you left my body sore and hollow those two summers ago and you finally came back to bury me six feet under to leave me to decay once and for all

but if i learned anything from you
it would be reincarnation.