Devil

You say I make you feel like the Devil.
My gushing poetry
Makes you toss about on your bed of coals,
Unable to sleep.

If you are the devil, I’ll embrace hell
And jump in with you.
I’ve always felt that Lucifer
Was a friend of mine.

Now I know that he is beautiful
And once loved me.
That knowledge alone gives some satisfaction
To my state of want.

I still crave feeling the texture of your clothing
And what’s beneath.
My skin still singes at the slightest touch of your finger
Or brush of your leg.

Do I make you uncomfortable with my feel?
If so, I’m glad.
To have the power to set Herr Satan on edge
Makes me quiver in excitement.

You make the magma in my purple veins boil
And overflow,
Spouting out and intermixing on my pale flesh
With my opal juice.

I have known gods both real and imagined
In loose togas
And their silly antics cannot touch
Your sly subtlety.

I have met Christ on many separate occasions-
Caressed his brow-
But with all his power he still can’t make
My thighs ache as you do.

You are not the horned beast I once pictured
Inhaling fiery wisps
But a creature of articulation and grace
And comeliness.

It is my dream to lie down with you, Devil,
And engulf you,
Until you are for once and for all mine
And return my love.

Is it only a hallucination of my transient mind
Or did you once call me yours
In some parallel reality, concrete yet blurred?
I will wait for you.

The slithering strains of your jazzy voice
Tickle my ears
And make me fall in love all over again,
My resistance charred.

When I sold you my soul, you said maybe 
We’d stay entangled.
So until then I can do little save fantasize
And I guess it must be so.

You say I make you feel like the Devil.
If only you knew how
The Devil prods my lust and dampens my groin,
You wouldn’t tease.

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