Excerpts From The Book I'll Never Write

#61

She told him that she had never written a poem. She said, "it's like God is coursing through my veins, telling my fingers what to write."
He believed her. He knew that only God could make something so tragic sound beautiful.
But it was 3 am when he heard her voice shake with fear, her eyes grew dark with anger and she seemed distant from the present.
That's when he knew she had a little bit of devil in her too.