Seven devils split among the two of us;
My envy of the angels you sought to be in touch with
The first “I love you” flattering your pride
My lust for your touch as you were in disguise
As a hopeless boy in love
Your sloth in the duration of us
After you finally had me
In the palms of your hands
Your wrath you threw at me
Out of loving you a little too much
My greed of wanting nothing but you
And for you to feel the same
And your gluttony in swallowing my heart
Without caring how it tasted or when it would stop beating for you;
Never.
But seven cannot be split between two equally
And as always
You end up with more than me
But I still envy that your heart was barely bruised
And mine has battle wounds