You come to me, in the middle of the night

Tears falling, rolling down those precious little cheeks

Tales of horror, of one so handsome

He tickled your fancy, now you won’t have him

Now he’s come back, to collect that little debt

You remember, don’t you?

That little debt, well it’s about to break your back

Swelling belly, made from love

Now you don’t want him, or what he has fathered

You should have known from the start, you little tramp

That he was the devil, and never should have kissed him back

The trickster that he is, so debonair and smooth

Those whispers he let escape, those succulent lips of his

The promises left dangling, hanging like a net

To snare you within his little suave web, soft and silky

Laying with you, in your very own bed

Now with child, demon spawn of Hell

Are you happy with yourself?

The Devil’s mistress, in death you shall wed

(c) 2001 A Riddle