She was poetry,
The way her curves aligned,
Bouncing out the walls of a perfect physique,
I could write verses of her.

She was music,
Her voice would rhyme it's own articulate songs,
Roaming the airways--
Her voice traveled down halls,
Lined With famous portraits,
She was the "Mona Lisa"
--of poetry.

She was the sun,
The moon,
The sky,
She was life,
AND she was temptation,
The chill down my spine,
When foreplay leads with ice,
When water melts and maneuvers itself in hot places I never thought,
Felt good cold.

She was poetry,
She was music,
She was Life,
She was temptation,
AND she was beauty,
Most importantly she was everything she wanted to be and more.