Her Hell vs His Heaven

There was nothing that would still her soul.

A bitter bitch who wore soft pink cashmere
that clung and hung to silicone breasts
and did not bounce happily as she rode in red hot Lamborghinis.

A sour tart
who when she pulled the trigger,
her grey matter splattered against the wall and orange butterflies flew to Heaven.

He had a love affair with life.

A capricious little bugger who wore a tam
that joggled as he hobbled on twisted legs
and a seasonal flower in his blazer buttonhole.

A wily imp
who was capable of anything at anytime, anywhere
and always with a mischievous grin that rotted every soul in Hell.