Poison Ivy

Her vision was like a mirage in a hot desert land,

distortedly beautiful and mighty to behold.

Once glance could bring all great men down to their knees,

beware of the Poison Ivy.

Her bosoms and curves were finely chiseled,

a weakness and a mighty feast for the wicked.

With a swift turn she buried deep into the earth their hopes of ever winning her attention.

From afar and with longing gazes they mouthed,

beware of the Poison Ivy.

Her lips were full enough to fill the voids in their hearts.

She had the pockets and hearts of men spelt out neatly as meals on a menu,

for breakfast, lunch and dinner she ordered several rounds and ate to her fill.

Underneath her sugar coated lies lay her greatest weapon,

one wielded by her tongue and bewitching when sealed with a kiss,

beware of the Poison Ivy.

Her amber eyes were a trap for the uncultured men.

A fleeting gaze and a bat of her lashes was all it took to strip all other commitments from their hearts.

With heavy hearts they climbed back into their marital beds and in the hands of their lovers,

they dreamt and ached for the Poison Ivy;

the woman out of every man’s league.

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