“The devil on my shoulder has a lot to say about you.”

You will always be my favorite story to tell.

Every letter of every poem is one more moment with you.

Because a broken heart still beats.

Have you heard the rumors about us? I kind of love them.

You introduced me to secrets.

What a magical spell those stars cast, making us believe we were written for them.

I have nothing to say and I can’t help but think that says a lot.

I prefer daydreams to those at night. It’s more fun to use my hands.

Sure, we could have kept going, but the chance of finding a gas station was zero.

You were all I ever wanted and nothing I could have.

Every day we don’t speak is one day closer to the day we will.

How beautiful she is to have tears as unapologetic as the rain.

I’m not looking at my phone. I’m looking for you.

How lonely it is with tears and heartbreak for company.

Whether this ends in a moment or forever, I will carry you always.

I will never let go of your letters; the last tangible pieces of you.

It is wonderful how much time good people spend fighting the devil.

I’m pretty, but I’m not beautiful. I sin but I’m not the devil. I’m good, but I’m not an angel.

That the Devil finds work for idle hands to do is probably true. But there is a profound difference between leisure and idleness.

If you get down and you quarrel everyday, you’re saying praises to the devil, I say.

Education without values, as useful as it is, seems rather to make man a more clever devil.

I swear I walk with God, but the devil keeps following.

I am good, but not an angel. I do sin, but I am not the devil. I am just a small girl in a big world trying to find someone to love.

The devil’s voice is sweet to hear.