and still she follows me
even through we're out in the open
she's hovering above me
and can't shake her in the rush hours
nor rinse her
she's there steamed up in the vapors of my showers
watching
without the need to blink or lick her lips
mimicing familiar voices
tainting somewhat simple choices
and creating illiusions that my faith is a lie
makes me wonder why the bad is so easy to try
she's a demon in brunette disguise
with handfulls of sweet red apples
that digest the soul