this morning #57.

this morning, satan was hovering in the air. she was sure she smelled his stench wafting about the halls of her house. now that she’d gone off & earned the title of “verified sinner,” she’d be watching her back. lurid temptation & danger seemingly lurked around every corner. it had found her once before & it would surely find her again. she flipped on the light & entered her walk-in closet, where everything shined, from gowns to belts to heels. they’d got her into this mess in the first place but she had no choice. gilded was her style. her style was her voice. her voice was deemed necessary. still, what words would she use to tell god?