the enchantress hovers over the mud
and over the puddles in which you drown
hiding stolen wings under a mendacious robe
and ripping strings from the seams of hopeless hearts
that sigh floods of wasted poison at her pointed feet
sprinkleing her boots with a shiny gloss
but painlessly,
she resumes her mischief
fogging the air with her voluptous fragrance
because venom can not slay
what you've already killed
Apoxy_Kisses Community Member 
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