She. was fine like wine, sweet like summer peaches, and smooth like silk in the spring time. She… came upon me like high noon to a late night or early morning drunkard, only the melodious sounds of her footsteps preceded her… sudden…I was in lust. She… had my mind, body, and soul, woven between her finger tips like braids or summer rain. She… held my heart like she had bought, and sold, and repossessed it, I was a mess. She… was the black widow who spun her web on my straight and narrow path, and I was just the fly guy who never saw it coming. She… possessed me, spiritually molested me so that when I had gotten to my furthest point from God I was convinced that she was bringing out the best in me. She… wanted only that I desire she, me, we more than I desired life itself. She… yearned for nothing better; nothing more, nothing less, nothing else.