He had the warmth of a devil who has been sitting in hell for an eternity:

Alone. Afraid. But charming as ever.

The spell he casts enchants

Even those who should be able to resist,

Who have vowed their loyalty to another.

He uses his sadness as a weapon,

Shielding it from vulnerability.

He tricks them. Loves them.

Takes everything, robbing them of what the have to offer,

But offering nothing in return.

He kisses them softly and lovingly,

Revealing none of his cruel intentions.

It is only when he has them ensnared, trapped,

Does he take off his regal mask.

He eats them alive – slowly but surely – savoring every bite,

Tasting every piece of the soft, fleshy hearts

That they had exposed to him.

And he loves it.

It fills him up in a way that no promise or vow ever could.

They return to their homes

Broken, empty shells:

Punishment for either their infidelity,

Or their complete and utter stupidity

For not being able to see what was

Underneath that striking facade.

His hands caress their hearts,

Blanketing them in a false sense of calm,

Before ultimately silencing their every beat.