If the Devil were to
describe how I am feeling,
he would say, “hopelessly in love.”
And then I would laugh
in his face and say, “I could
fall out any time I want to.”

But we’d both know I was
lying; fooling myself,
my thoughts.
And lying, much like the love
I’ve fallen in, is sinful behavior.

Love is pure—,
supposedly created by
God, to lead to marriage—,
a Sacrement, a holy bond…
one step closer to Heaven,
one step closer to being
in the Lord’s loving arms.

But there are some loves that
I believe were created by the Devil.
Sinful love, fires burning,
burning lust, burning pain;
painful love, violent love.
“Never-leave-my-side” love.

And God’s all-holy union
can’t compete with this.

This is the melting hearts
of teenage lovers, the pulsating beat,
the crawling skin;
the longing stares of
piercing eyes, smirking mouth…
Lips of satin, fingers of velvet.
Holding hands, holding hearts,
holding lives so tightly as if
to say “you’re all I need—”

The Devil’s love,
Satan’s answer to the Sacrament.

So I say to this Devil,
“you haven’t gotten hold
of me yet…”
But he knows the truth,
for he is the one
who put that boy on this Earth,
not the Lord, God,
no holy scripture.
The Devil himself placed him
here, in all his sly ego;
the Devil himself placed me
here to match.
Myself and my venom,
my mystery; my love
and his curiosity to fulfill.

The explosions set off; the violence;
angry, earth-shaking, hell-raising…
Satan’s love, the Devil’s own Sacrament…

Teenage hearts bonded
by iron chains, sewn together
and dragged around to look
just as worn and ratty as
the bodies in which they
throb and tremble.

The bodies in which they
scream for each other.