To Make Monsters Out of Girls

by Amanda Lovelace

even lucifer himself wore a pair of wings on his shoulder blades, but remember, dear one—it wasn’t long before he let the straps slip down & everyone found out he was never who he was always pretending to be. - fool me once, twice, thrice.

this isn’t a haunting; it’s a hunting.

he may have gone, but i’m still finding his fingerprints on every surface of me.

love does not need to be tragic in order for it to be good. the truth is that i would much rather stir to the feeling of his lips meeting my forehead at 5:30 a.m. every morning for the next eighty odd years than settle for living an eternity alongside someone who can’t even be sure where he left his promises the night before. - fuck those fairy tales.