Poison Ivy.
I must admit, I always questioned your ability to reciprocate the love that I deserve.
History has it that your charm and poison has a way of shinning through to people just like the way you got me.
Poison Ivy.
What was it that lured me to you? I think it was the way you pulled me in. As gentle as a dove and as wise as serpent. With every smell, every touch, as innocent as they appeared you took my breathe away.
Poison Ivy.
Will my last words ever be as sensual as your first touch? Did my eyes light up as my adrenaline rushed? Poison, friendship, love.... these words have become mundane and such.
Poison Ivy.
Will you still care for me? Is it better that we’re no longer friends? Even after I’ve chosen to die and become vulnerable for you?