She’s an angel by mistake, born in the wrong body to trick men
into giving her their hearts as an offering at the altar
of her insufferable alter-ego.
A devil to the core, she told me it’s love while batting her long lashes.
The truth burned our youth behind her crinkled hazel eyes.
Her wet cheeks contradict the fact that she still wants me around.
I’ve been going through unseemly motions, clinging to
a self-fulfilling prophecy I’d planned out as my backup plan.
Going through the motions on a summer’s path-beaten day.
The places we meet alone weaken your facade and feed your fix for love.

(© 2022 AC)

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