My twenty-two hour love took me by the hand,
Being the first one to ever even acknowledge the fact that I was more than a human, but a mind as well.
We strolled by all the people who sent their hatred towards us,
Smirking at their ill-founded comments that seemed to know "everything" about us.
The butterflies were not only in my stomach,
But in my feet,
My heart,
All the way up to the tip of my scalp.
My twenty-two hour love took me by the waist.
He pulled me in closer to him as we were sitting,
As if I would suddenly run away from him if his grip became any looser.
We exchanged stories about our lives at the dead of night,
And somehow it felt normal.
His godly hands rejuvenated my skin and set my heart on fire,
But I didn't mind,
For my heart was previously ice-cold,
Even on those warm spring nights.
At the twenty-third hour of knowing my twenty-two hour love,
I peeled off his skin and revealed his vile insides,
And suddenly the butterflies that were scattered around my body became a swarm of bees,
Stinging at my insides and yearning for sweet honey.
The word "stop" suddenly had no meaning whatsoever,
And my screams became hushed whispers in his ears.
Once again, my twenty-two hour love grabbed me by the hand,
But this time he dragged me into a ring of fire,
That had previously served as my heart,
And his godly hands didn't seem so godly anymore,
For when I looked up,
I was holding hands with the Devil.