Where Are My Words?

dancing with the devil

I'm missing a guy I shouldn't be missing.
He keeps showing up in my dreams and I tell him I love him.
I don't know what that means or why it keeps happening,
because I keep telling everyone else that I'm way past over him.

I tried to sell my dreams to the devil to get him out of me,
but the devil only made it worse by showing how he made me happy.
The devil plays a tricky game when no one else is watching.
I've never been so persuaded by something I'm imagining.

The devil grabbed my hand and led me to the movies.
He played every memory that I remembered sharing.
We sat there for days, but the devil wasn't watching.
His eyes were on me and his tail kept twirling.

I glanced at the devil, he stood and grabbed my hand.
I danced with the devil as he morphed into this man
whose eyes sparkled like glass
and soul crackled like flames.
He smelled of alcohol from drinking his life away.
This man was familiar to someone I had loved;
but wasn't the same man whose soul I crushed to dust.

The devil shows us all our own forms of hell.
Hell being anything that has once brought us down.
Imagine the devil taking you to a person,
someone you destroyed for no obvious reason.
Imagine the devil grabbing both of your shoulders
to make you face the mess you created and ignored.

Imagine the devil showing you a man
who is still obsessed with your every curve and stance.
The man with a soul you crushed to dust.
The man whose eyes sparkled with lust.
The man who you murdered and miss in your dreams
still being worried about your entire wellbeing.

Now imagine a man being held by the devil
while he cries for help out of deep trouble.
The devil still holding this man as he cries
because this man is truly dying deep down inside.
The person he loved most broke his heart,
yet he still admires her like she's a work of art.

This entire thought is my own eternal hell.
Feeling all this guilt for harming a man
because he's still in love with his own dancing devil.
He danced too long with the devil in the living room.
He kissed so often with the devil while on the move.
He touched the body of the devil whenever he could.
He made sure he truly loved the devil, she understood.

He appreciated the devil and everything she tried to do.
He played with the devil even though he would lose.
He wanted to help the devil, she seemed to feel abused.
But the devil can be tricky when she wants to.

The devil stole his heart and tore it into pieces,
but he watched the devil with a smile as he handed her the keys.
The devil broke that man;
the devil being me.
So now it's my turn to feel the wrath of the devil;
the devil being me.